RIDDICK TRIPLE HELIX
by Darktales4u
Summary: Two years after escaping Not Furya, Riddick realizes he's changing into something dark and sinister. Now, to find a cure and save the family he never knew he had, he must learn the secets to his murky past. A past that will lead him face to face with an ancient evil that has manipulated him since the day of his birth.
1. Chapter 1

**The C** **hronicles of Riddick**

 **Triple Helix**

 **Book 1 of 3**

 **The Dark Obelisk**

 **Not Furya:** **A few hours after Krone left Riddick for dead**

Riddick sank into the column of liquid sulfur facing up as blood rose to the surface like angry red storm clouds spreading through an blue sky. The arid winds blowing across the planes dried the barren cracking land, driving the mud demons deep into the still moist soil far below. Not Furya was hostile world overrun with a host of creatures evolved to hunt and feed on the weak. And thanks to his enemies, Riddick was weak.

Here I am again, he thought, sinking into the murky depths below, left for dead. Counted out by lesser men with no honor. You're wrong, he thought. I will survive; I will have my vengeance and I take the blood you owe me.

Riddick's self-imposed code wouldn't allow him to give up. No, he had to much self-respect for defeat. Besides, Krone had broken the deal Riddick made with Siberious Vacco. Riddick had given up his claim to the Necromonger throne in exchange for a ride to his homeworld of Furya. For his trouble, Riddick received a slew of broken ribs, a shattered wrist, a compound fracture of the right femur, multiple contusions, lacerations and a myriad of internal injuries that left him vulnerable to attack.

In the life giving air high above, the pack of feral dogs that chased Riddick into the pool circled the rocky banks waiting for their next meal to resurface.

But the deflated air in his burning lungs wasn't the only problem. He had little hope of fighting off a pack of savage attackers. Riddick held his breath, bided his time and sank into the safety of darkness.

A hundred hungry slimy eyes lining the narrow column watched his decent with growing interest. The intoxicating red nectar wafting through the liquid sulfur called to the sulfur eels hiding in the porous walls. The wriggling eels slithered from the security of rock to investigate the juicy morsel passing through their home like a juicy nectarine falling from a branch. It sank into the darkness dragged down by the weight of its own twisted armor.

As precious seconds stretched into perilous minutes Riddick's heart raced, his lungs longed for air. But still, the slobbering pack circled the bank peering down at the growing frenzy below. The eels swarmed their feast taking mouthfuls back to the safety of their holes. And with each nip, each nibble, the storm clouds rose higher.

Riddick closed his mirrored eyes, calmed his racing mind and the sound of a staccato heartbeat slowed to a near stop. He needed time; he needed a safe place to get away from the pack; but more than that, he needed a miracle and that is why he did the unthinkable; Riddick prayed.

Shira, he thought, I don't know if you can hear me.

A sound came from the distant horizon and the impatient pack bolted off in search of less illusive prey.

"Now!" A woman's voice urged him upward. "Get to the surface."

He kicked hard to the edge of the pool and slowly broke through the surface of the bubbling pool resisting the urge to gasp in air giving himself away. Riddick's eyes rolled, darkness swirled around his head as howls sounded in the near distance. Safety seemed so far away but he knew survival depended on a speedy retreat. He couldn't survive a battle.

A long mournful howl gave way to the sound of a feeding pack tearing something to shreds. Riddick rolled out of the water as a wave of pain filled him with the urge to scream in agony. But Riddick resisted the weakness of flesh in favor of a stealthy escape.

The dogs barked and howled nearer now. Where they returning? Was Riddick's journey home at the end? He resisted such thoughts looking around hastily formulating an escape strategy.

The pool beside him bubbled red with his blood and the ground beneath his many injuries wept a crimson puddle that rose into the arid wind calling all around him.

"Slipping into shock. Running out of time." He said to himself, struggling to keep from admitting Krone had almost won.

The course ground brought unimaginable pain with every effort to move; a pain no man should endure. But endure he did. Riddick's lips faded grey, his extremities went numb to the touch and ice filled his veins. But still, he clawed his way across the jagged landscape in search of cover and one more minute of life. He rolled onto his back as the sun forced his uncovered eyes into paper thin slits. His vision narrowed to a pinhole as the remaining moments of his life slipped into the vale of darkness.

"Riddick," a voice hollered from an outcropping of giant boulders in the near distance. "Over here!"

He looked to the sound and felt his blood boil. Siberious Vaako stood a hundred yards away motioning for him to come at once. Vaako pointed down at the top of the large boulder he stood on and yelled, "Get inside."

Anger crept through Riddick's limbs fueling him with the will to go on. He wanted to reach Vaako; he wanted to ring his neck for Krone's treacherous betrayal. Moments from death, Riddick scuttled across the ground feeling like a fool and blaming himself for trusting an enemy.

Struggling to maintain his waning faculties, confusion set in and everything seemed out of place. Vaako looked different, gone was the pallid look of death and the morbid Necromonger armor. New were clothes that looked ordinary. Almost familiar.

"Oh... fuck you didn't," Riddick raged up at the sky. "I ask for help and you send him."

"Move!" the woman's voice commanded. "Now!"

As Riddick clawed his way towards Vaako, the elements grated away at his drying flesh. He collapsed inches from the edge of the boulder and shouted, "I'm gonna kick… your ass… you fucker." No reply came, Siberious Vaako had gone, or perhaps, Vaako had never been there at all. Perhaps Riddick's mind was playing tricks. Either way, he had reached a safety.

The sun was setting on the horizon when Riddick noticed the thinning bloody trail leading back to the sulfur pool.

"Shit," Riddick thought aloud.

He knew the dogs would follow the trail straight to the source and if they reached their goal before he reached the safety of rock, the fight was over. Forcing himself to his feet, he fought the urge to scream as the jagged bones in his broken leg ground together beneath the perforated meat barely holding them inside.

Riddick clung to the edge of the searing boulder, found a line of small handholds and pulled himself upward using the remaining strength in his arms. He was a few feet above the ground when the first dog came into view. It saw him and took off at a full gallop bounding in 10 foot strides. Riddick reached the top of the boulder just as the dog lunged at his feet.

"Where are you dammit?" he called out, standing up and scanning the rock's dirty surface for footprints. Just a hallucination, he thought narrowly avoiding a ring of round shafts cut through the giant boulder's surface.

The rest of the pack reached the rock moments later lunging and jumping trying to scramble up the steep sides. The pack massed in one spot as Riddick watched the first dog run out a hundred yards. It circled back running at full sleep preparing to use the mass as a spring board to reach its prey.

Riddick forced his feet inside one of shafts disappearing from sight, just as a large dog bounded over the edge. It snapped into the hole as its quarry slid out of sight. Riddick fell from a hole in the ceiling like a lifeless doll trying to right himself to no avail. Dust rose into the cool air as he crashed down back first on a stone pedestal ejecting a geyser of blood from his mouth. The broken ribs jabbing his lungs made every breath feel as though a vice crushed his chest.

He sat up in a large chamber carved inside the boulder gasping for air, choking on blood thinking now is hardly the time to give in to pain. An narrow entrance carved in the side of the stone wall let in a stream of light. The opening was to small for a dog. But a determined animal could push its way through. Riddick needed shelter before the final attack came in force.

The chamber was fifty feet round with a domed ceiling 25 feet high with 6 perfectly smooth circular shafts hue through the top of the rock. Brilliant beams of light illuminated a ring of ornate offering pedestals directly below them. At the center stood a large black obelisk carved from a single piece of obsidian. The dust kicked up on his arrival circled through the beams of light as if the obelisk was positioned in the eye of an unseen cyclone.

Riddick sat in the dirt watching the large shadows running from hole to hole trying to get in. He was weak; far to weak to fight off any dog lucky enough to find its way through the entrance. He pulled himself up using a pedestal for support, noticed an indentation in the floor behind the obelisk and darted towards the center of the room.

Balance failed him, he slammed into the heavy stone monument and let out a blood curdling scream as the bottom half his femur reemerged through the side of his calf. The dogs above heard the scream and jumped down heading for the entrance.

Something strange happened, It was as if a high voltage line had coiled around him releasing an enormous surge of energy through his body. No matter how hard Riddick tried to push himself away, he was stuck to the monument like a hunk of heavy steel pinned to an electromagnet. He was trapped.

Two dogs reached the entrance at the same time, both fought to get in only to get stuck half way through the opening thrashing and biting at one another in an effort to be the first to reach the prize.

In a last ditch effort, Riddick heaved with all his remaining energy and fell over backwards with the obelisk in his arms. It slammed the ground trapping him beneath 2 broken halves as the frightened dogs fled the entrance chased away by the loud noise and a cloud of angry dust that melted everything in its path.

All the light in the room faded away as time slowed to a stop and when Riddick's faculties returned the pain in his body had subsided, his injuries had healed and he was as clean as if stepping from a shower.

Riddick pushed the lesser half of the obelisk to one side, crawled out from beneath the makeshift refuge wiping dust from his glowing eyes. The fact he wasn't thirsty or hungry never entered his mind. Nor did the fact that all his injuries had vanished. No, his only thoughts were of catching up to the enemies who'd wronged him and the need for vengeance when they met again.

He sat on the obelisk, staring at the light flooding in through the entrance forming a plan of escape, thinking about the inhospitable world outside and noticed a fragmented shard of black rock lying at his feet. It was long and thin like a razor-sharp blade. "This will come in handy," he said to himself picking it up and heading out to face whatever came next.


	2. Chapter 2 Familiar Faces

**Chapter 1**

 **Familiar Faces**

 **Two years after Riddick's escape from Not Furya.**

"Listen bitch, it's a simple math problem." A suave pimp named Ricco said, squinting at one of his working girls. The calm in his frosty demeanor did little to quell the sense of dreed building in the crowd of scantily clad women standing beneath an enormous neon Marquette flashing, 'Club Neutrino.'

Ricco gestured up at two fifty foot holographic dancing girls floating above the sign like sirens beckoning lonely patrons inside. "See, baby. See what I did for you." Ricco said, smiling as Ginger looked at herself dancing naked as passersby stared in disbelief. "Now, everyone wants to meet the angel in the sky."

Ricco had forced Ginger to dance in studio just to record her likeness. But she had never seen the gyrating images until now. It was humiliating to dance naked in front of an entire studio filled with cameras. But now, she saw the result for herself. Ricco had Ginger's already see-through clothes fall off every time a train entered the subway station beneath the club.

"And this is the how you repay me," Ricco said, offering a foreboding smile that highlighted a mouthful of unnaturally whitened teeth. "After I place you above all others."

The crowd of women took a step away from her leaving her to the whims of the coming storm.

Ricco turned his back to her, raising his hands to the heavens as if giving a sermon to the passersby's. "Now, every red-blooded man in the entire city knows who you are." He lowered his arms, dropped his face to the ground and shook his head. "And where are you?" He looked over his shoulder at Ginger, fire in his eyes and answered his own question. "No where to be found. I spent a shitload of coin on this little marketing scheme."

Car horns blared in the night sky as a mesmerized driver veered out of the hoverway lane and bounced along the side of a nearby building showering the street with sparks, and glass. Ricco laughed to himself and said, "Looks like I was right, there goes another soon to be satisfied customer."

The lurid spectacle had diverted many a motorist's attention and led to numerous traffic accidents. In the 5 days the sign had been in place dozens of unsuspecting hovercraft pilots had crashed and parents for miles in every direction had closed their curtains. But still, no one spoke out against Ricco. Because everyone knew he was protected.

Ricco's influential parents – high ranking city counsel members – gave him the parcel because it was just down the street from the interstellar financial hub that never slowed; not even for a nanosecond.

The repurposed property had once stood as a lavish hotel in the most affluent part of New Detroit. But that was before the zenomorph outbreak of 2278, substantially reduced the clientele base. Now the building was little more than a tawdry front for a brothel used to bilk middle-aged businessmen and frazzled stock traders out of their not so hard earned coin.

"Do the math for me, Ginger," Ricco said, pointing a well manicured fingernail in the direction of the dark haired hooker at the center of the pack. "If everyone coming in wants a private party with the girl in the sky and she's not here, how much do I lose?"

Ginger stared at Ricco, face turning white as she backed away.

Ricco followed her and said, "Come on. It's simple. If you earns 3,500 credits a roll, at 10 rolls a night and you misses four nights, how much did you cost me?"

Ginger shifted uneasily on her heels shaking her head in fear as she narrowly avoided the wall-sized doorman who had left his post when Ricco called him to arms. "I'm sorry Ricco, my kid was sick."

"Wrong fuckin' answer, bitch" The pampered pimp cut in, standing amid his downtrodden harem like a would-be king wearing fine jewelry and expensive clothing.

"It won't happen again." She said. "I'll make it up to you."

"Make it up to me!" Ricco repeated, hands balling at his sides. "How many times has this happened?"

"I promise it won't happen again."

"Oh, on that we can agree," Ricco replied, showing little sign of having any interest other than his current threat. Although, Ricco was keenly aware some of the women were now backing away and the palpable fear spreading through their faces made him feel strong; it made him feel in control; it even made him feel invincible.

To bad the broad shouldered figure watching from the shadows on the adjacent corner didn't share the same feelings. No, Riddick felt something all together different. He felt an odd sense of rage manifesting itself in the form of a blue flame flickering behind his mirrored pupils. A blue flame that drained the energy from Riddick's surroundings. It was the emergence of the flames that had brought him to this world seeking answers.

No one in the busy street seemed to notice the unnatural darkness hanging on the corner in the near distance. It cloaked Riddick from the busy passersby as he waited quietly for an old friend. An old friend, he hadn't seen in decades or was even sure he could still trust.

The area around the club was a central hub where all ground traffic, the underground rail system and the overhead hoverway intersected. It was a perfect place for a single man to hide in plain sight. It was a public area filled with busy crowds, yet close enough to the edge of the quarantine zone to give him an escape route if need be.

Riddick watched the ill matched showdown in silence, unable to escape the feeling he'd met the woman somewhere before. The troubling sense of deja vu filling his thoughts made him question why he cared about a no name hooker in the backend of the Universe? But against his better judgement, Riddick was certain he knew Ginger and that he did care. The longer Riddick watched the scene progress to its inevitable climax, the more he knew he would have to intervene.

Then – while fixated on the woman's long black hair, dark eyes and pale skin – Riddick remembered where he had seen Ginger before.

"It can't be." he whispered to himself, "I watched you die."

Riddick thought about the day Shazza Montgomery was torn to shreds on M6-117, and instantly regretted thinking about the dark planet and the Hunter-Gratzner crash. It brought back the series of events that led to Kyra's death at the hands of Lord Marshal Zhylaw and the inescapable guilt plaguing him because it was his fault. Kyra's death would have crushed him completely if Riddick knew who Kyra really was. But that revelation would come in due time. For now, Riddick only knew Kyra as the girl he'd saved on M6-117. The girl he had come to love like a daughter.

"No," he protested, believing it must be a trick of the imagination. The Hunter-Gratzner went down nearly two decades earlier. But still, there she was, standing right in front of him. The spitting image of Shazza; the same hair, the same face and the same unmistakable Aussie accent.

A foreboding sense of dreed crept across his face leaving behind a worrisome knot in the pit of his stomach. It urged Riddick to run; getaway before everything went sideways; before death came again. Death followed Riddick like a thief in the night, it was always just a few steps behind and worse yet, it took everyone Riddick tried to help; everyone he let get close; everyone he loved. But Riddick couldn't go. He needed answers. So wait he must.

Months earlier, Riddick had sent word to an old friend asking for help. Weeks had passed with no reply. But then a coded message reached him from Sigma 3. A message confirming a meet at a predetermined location. This location.


	3. Chapter 3 Friend Enemy Common Goal

**Chapter 2**

 **A Friend. An Enemy. A Common Goal.**

 **Many weeks earlier / On route to the Lupus System**

The E.S.S. Regert was the fastest ship in the Company Ranger fleet and the first ship every new recruit asked to be assigned to when they arrived on Sigma 3. The vessel spanned nearly 1,500 yards, carried a compliment of 1,750 troops and 150 support personnel. It was the vessel routinely sent on the highest priority missions.

The Regert's state of the art hull incorporated the latest suspensor field technology allowing it to slip through the wide open expanses of space more than double the speed of any other conventional ship in service. Landing a prestigious posting on the Regert was a dream assignment.

But these days the crew wasn't bragging about dream assignments; they were having heated debates about the up coming mission. A mission that would take place without the ship's commander of nearly 10 years. He was away on a covert mission in a distant system leaving the Regert under new command.

Master Sergeant Deckard, was in charge until the commander returned from assignment and Deckard's somewhat aggressive, and unconventional methods made him unpopular with the crew. He was a by-the-book leader who expected his orders to be followed without question, hesitation or compromise.

That's why the vessel was currently running at 105% engine capacity, even though regulations expressly prohibited pushing the engine beyond normal limits. Deckard had his orders, pick up an independent research team on Lupus 5 and get to the destination at best possible speed.

The nonstop harmonics coursing through the ship's substructure only served to fuel the crews sense of unrest. Add to that, transporting an unknown team to an undisclosed location in the heart of the forbidden planets region was far from routine. In fact, the entire mission was cloaked in a shroud of secrecy no one liked. The only information circulating through the ship's rumor mill was that of an unknown source. An ancient dark artifact of immense power had been located and they were on route to retrieve it.

As for mission particulars, there was nothing normal about any of it. Firstly, there were civilians contractors coming aboard; and secondly, the brass wanted the team brought into a hostile area to conduct tests on site. The breech in longtime protocols had spooked the crew and sent an uneasy tone throughout the ship's compliment.

"Lt. Williams," a voice blared over the speakers in engineering. "How long until we arrive at Lupus 5?"

Lt. Williams grabbed tbe handset off the coms-unit, keyed the mic and said, "If the engine holds together, we should arrive in a little less than an hour. If not, we won't arrive, at all."

"Fine," Deckard countered, "Drop engine output to 95%. That should give the engine time to rest."

"Affirmative," Lt. Williams replied. "Our new ETA is 2 hours, 38 minutes."

The coms-channel went silent for a moment. But Lt. Williams didn't move, he could hear the static coming from the speaker and knew Deckard's mic was still keyed. William's face began to turn red. He rolled his eyes and sneered at the speaker.

"And Lt." Deckard continued, "Use the added time to prep the drop ship for immediate departure upon arrival. I want our guests onboard no more than 30 minutes after we enter high orbit, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Williams replied, as if the acting captain had made an unreasonable request.

"Is there a problem, Lt?"

"No sir… There's no problem, at all."

"Good," Deckard snapped. "And Lt., stop calling me sir."

"Yes… Master Sergeant." he replied, flicking off the com-channel before the acting captain could continue. "You just want a days work in a two hours. Why should that be a problem?" he muttered to himself.

"Martinson, Buckley, Jenkins and Holland you have two hours to prep the drop ship for a ground level pick-up." Williams called out, looking over his shoulder at a sea of disgruntled faces. "I suggest you get moving."

One of the men in the middle of the engine bay grimaced and said, "Seriously!"

"And the rest of you!" Lt. Williams shouted. "Make damn certain the Regert is ready to leave orbit as soon as the drop ship is safely back aboard."

"Yes Sir!" everyone sounded off in unison, as they headed off to their respective duties parroting his look of exasperation.

"Corporal Dodson!" the Lt. shouted at the man who had complained. "Get down to the docking bay and check the airlock doors and transit rail. I don't want anything going wrong during the docking cycle."

"Yes Sir."

The drop ship barely made it back inside the docking bay before the outer doors started closing. A few moments later, the door seals hissed signaling the outer airlock had closed and the Regert's main thrusters fired pushing it out of orbit as the inner airlock doors began opening. That was another clear breech of protocol and a recordable safety violation.

The inner airlock door began closing as the drop ship began its journey along the transit system towards its final mooring point. Another violation.

"God dammit!" Lt. Williams shouted, turning up the air pressure on the transit system in an effort to get the drop ship into position and locked down before the Regert fired its main engine. "What the fuck are you doing up there? Are you trying to kill us all?" he called out over the coms.

"Attention all crewmembers," An artificial voice called out over the coms. "Brace for emergency main engine ignition."

The drop ship's locking clamps slammed closed just as the main engine fired and half the unprepared crew crashed to the floor in utter shock. The engine's thrust pinned the unprepared against the aft walls of whatever compartments they were working in.

During the unscheduled burn, the ship sustained minor damages on 4 decks from loose debris and 16 people were admitted to sickbay for minor injuries caused by blunt force trauma.

"Lt. Williams, I need you to divert all non-essential power to the main engine. I want the engine at 115%" Deckard said, picking himself off the floor of the main bridge. He rubbed the welt forming on his head. "We need to reach our destination A.S.A.P."

"Are you insane!" Williams screamed, racing through the bulk head door leading onto the bridge. "Do you know you could be court marshalled for firing the engine without alerting tbe crew."

"Not my doing," Deckard replied, pointing at a black box on a nearby console. "I'm not in command, Lt." He pointed at the lack of insignia on his collar. "They don't give ship commands to enlisted, remember?"

"No shit!" Williams replied, shooting him a frost grimace. "Why didn't they give command to me?"

"That's what I asked them."

"You did?" he said, feeling a little foolish.

"What did they say?"

"I was informed the General would be in charge." Deckard answered, pointing at the box again. "I'm just up here to make sure his orders are carried out."

"That's fucking stupid."

Deckard pointed at the lump on his head. "Agreed."

"What are we gonna do?"

"No idea," he replied with a smile. "But I think the long range telemetry array may have been knocked out of alignment during the impromptu take off. If you check it, I'm certain you may need to take the array offline to make the necessary repairs."

"But that would sever…" Williams paused, as a huge grin spread across his face, "all contact with command."

Deckard rubbed the lump on his head with a dark smile. "I believe you're right. It looks like I'll have to have the coms-officer send a subspace message informing command I've assumed command in the interim. Sadly, it will more than likely, take a week to reach them."

Two abnormally chiseled young men and a woman in her mid-forties walked in and set down a myriad of over burdened duffle bags filled with lab equipment and field supplies. The woman dropped a large handbag on a console and stared at Deckard, and Williams as if waiting for a greeting.

She was tall and willowy with short grey hair, and piercing green eyes. Her two assistants wore matching dark blue jackets that read: 'Property of Mega Corp.' They were synthetics.

After a moment of staring between Deckard and Williams, she asked, "Would someone please explain what the hell is going on around here?" She rubbed her left shoulder as if it ached and added, "Anybody…"

Lt. Williams shook his head at Deckard, walked over to the console where the black box was grafted into the circuitry and tore it out amid a flurry of sparks. He dropped it at the woman's feet wearing an unkind expletive on his face. "I'll do my best to repair the busted array, but it appears the override module sustained catastrophic damage during our departure."

"Thanks for that, Lt."

"No problem," Williams said, turning to the woman. "Hello, Dr. Chillingsworth. It's always a pleasure."

"Young man?" the doctor said, looking to her assistants with a frown. "Can anyone tell me what is happening here? Why the sudden take off?"

Williams looked from her to Deckard wearing a sideways grin and said, "Well, I guess that's my queue to leave you to it, then."

"Thanks a lot."

"Hey," Williams said, walking to the door as he stared at the woman and her assistants. "Dealing with these kinds of problems… is just one of the perks of being in command."

"Raymond, does your head of engineering think this is funny?" Dr. Chillingsworth asked as the door closed behind the Lt. "I came here at the request of General Torrens and the lieutenant treats me like I'm the enemy."

"Oh… cut the crap, Regina, we're alone now." Deckard replied, staring at her for a quick moment. The look of reserved empathy on his face faded to one of sincerely not giving a shit. "The Lt. meant nodisrespect, it's just been a shitty day."

"Be that as it may," Regina said, waving a lean hand loftily around the air. "General Torrens assured me I would have your full co-operation."

"Yes, I'm sure the general told you a great deal." Deckard replied, offering her oddly perfect assistants a sneer that clearly meant I don't trust you. "But I have to ask, does the General know our history?"

"I am not in the habit of sharing my personal history."

"You mean unless there's something in it for you."

Regina turned to the console beside her and typed commands at a frantic pace. "I only agreed to take this assignment, because the General assured me you would be placed in command."

Deckard inhaled deeply as if gathering enough breath to exhale his thoughts. "A: Bullshit. You don't do anything without a selfish plan; and B: Did you really? Because that doesn't make up for anything, Regina. You left me on Aguerra Prime nursing a nasty case of food poisoning." Deckard thought about ringing her long neck and was almost immediately caught up in wondering what perfume she had on. The longing to smell her neck made him want to strangle her even more.

"You know why I had to leave."

"Sure, sure.." Deckard replied, as the anger in his guts tarnished his words a bit too harshly. "Riddick killed your baby sister. But that doesn't excuse the fact you left without telling me you were leaving or that you were never coming back."

"What do you want me to say?" Regina's lower lip trembled ever so slightly as tears welled in her eyes. "I'm sorry I left; I'm sorry I never came back, or that I feel terrible because I let my guilt consume me with a need for revenge."

"Guilt," Deckard replied, wondering what she had to feel guilty about. "What are talking about?"

"I was the one responsible for retrofitting the Kublai Khan with the cryo-stasis system Antonia used to create her collection of misfit boys." Regina answered. "Therefore, it's my fault she's dead."

"Hardly," he replied, with a dismissive scowl. "While there is no excuse for helping your sister create her little trophy collection; there is also no doubt, she chose her own path and paid the price for doing so."

"But… Riddick."

"But… Riddick nothing," he interrupted, throwing up his arms and tilting his head to the side recreating the crucifixion pose. "It's time to climb down off the cross, Regina. It wasn't your fault Antonia was a psychopath anymore than it was Riddick's fault she's dead. If she had tried to freeze me I would have killed her ass, myself."

"Fine," Regina replied, looking as if she wasn't certain if she should slap Deckard or kiss him. "You always did have a soft spot for your ex-commander."

Deckard slammed his fist on the console nearby, denting the metal beneath his bloody knuckles. "Riddick saved my life more times than I can count. He was one of a handful of men I looked up too and they framed him for a crime he didn't commit; for being an honorable man. Now, Riddick really is a goddamn criminal, hunted everywhere he goes."

Regina studied Deckard's words picking out the hidden message buried just beneath the surface. "Yes, there was a time when Riddick was a good man. But look how far your mentor has fallen since his ill fated demise on Sigma 3."

"Not his fault."

"Perhaps long ago that may have been true." Regina said, moving in so close Deckard could finally smell the scent on her neck. "But now, it's all his doing. Riddick walks a path of his own choosing the same way Antonia did; the same way we all do. Riddick hides behind crime as a way to hide from the pain of what his actions set in motion all those years ago. His beloved died because of him."

"Grudge much, Regina?"

"Turn from the truth much, Raymond?" she countered, studying the expression on his face like it was hiding a secret buried deep beneath the skin. "I wasn't sure if you were the one… But now…"

"But now what?"

"I know you were the delivery man." Regina whispered. "You are, aren't you?"

"I may have bumped into Riddick on Bannkul IV. But as for being a deliveryman, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I was just hoping if you were so eager to help an old friend, maybe you could help an old lover find a place for her team to set up their equipment."

"About your team." Deckard replied, scrutinizing the two androids standing behind her. "Did you inform the high command you'd be bringing synthetics aboard?"

"I can assure you, the general knows everything about my team, our capabilities and my methodologies."

"I'm certain," Deckard replied, smiling at Regina. "Does he know about you and Antonia?"

Regina removed a data storage device from the bag she'd placed on the counter, slid it into a nearby port and added, "The answer to that question is, yes; the high command is well aware of my culpability in Antonia's crimes. In fact, it is for that very reason, my team and I were chosen for this mission. My vast understanding of a multitude of different stasis systems and the science employed in making them function properly will undoubtedly be of great value on this mission."

"How so?"

"Come see for yourself," Regina said, booting up the drive with a smile. "It would appear General Torrens thought there may be unforeseen difficulties with the array." She laughed to herself lifting the hanging wires. "That's why the general gave me a coded message to give to you upon arrival. I believe it will explain the importance of our mission at length."

"How thoughtful of him."

"Yes." Regina replied, with a coy grin. "He is a thoughtful man."

Regina turned to her assistants, whispered something Deckard couldn't quite make out and they quickly left the room with bags in tow.

Deckard frowned at the doorway, wondering what she'd whispered and asked, "Where are they going?"

"They're going to engineering" Regina replied, motioning for Deckard to come watch the General's message.

Deckard didn't move, he just stood there scrutinizing the door and wondering if he should alert the crew. It was against regulation to have unregistered synthetics aboard. But more than that, Deckard didn't trusted synthetics.

"They're going to upgrade the suspensor field." Regina explained, gesturing impatiently for him to come over.

"Upgrade it how?" Deckard asked, looking at Regina as if he wouldn't move until she explained. "That technology is supposed to be state of the art."

"And for most, it is," Regina replied, wearing an mask of superiority. "However, I can do better."

"Better than state of the art?" Deckard said, walking over to view the general's message. Deckard's expression darkened as the video began. "What are you up to, Regina?"

Regina's paused the video, her expression darkening as she looked over her shoulder to make sure they were alone. "The general received reports the Necros are headed towards the forbidden planets region. He believes they're after the same artifact we are. We are to take possession of said artifact by any means necessary."

"Any means necessary." Deckard laughed at the screen. "If the Necros want something, they take it." The furrows crossing his forehead spoke volumes of Deckard's prior battles with the Necromongers. "We can't beat them in open combat, they're to strong."

"We don't need to beat anyone one in open combat if we're gone before they get there."

Deckard shook his head thinking things couldn't get any worse. "You know we can't out run their ships."

"That's why I'm here. This is a race we can ill afford to lose." Regina said, reaching into her handbag and removing the stone blade Riddick had picked up on Not Furya. "The artifact this blade was fashioned from holds unimaginable power."

Deckard turned to her with a worried expression and asked, "What's really going on Regina?"

"I promised the general, if you met me on Lupus 5, I could get us to our destination in less than 3 days." Regina said, in a volume so low her words couldn't drown out the voice of reason whispering in Deckard's ear.

"3 days." He said, looking at her through the corner of his eye.

"Less than."

"You know that's not possible," Deckard replied, shaking his head with a frown. "This is the fastest ship in the company fleet and it will take us at least 2 months to go that far out."

"The Necros already have a 2 week lead on us." Regina warned, trying to start the video feed. But Deckard slapped her hand away before she could start the video. "We cannot let the Necromongers reach the artifact before we do, they are already to powerful. If they get their hands on that technology they will have the means to destroy the universe."

"And just how do you plan on pulling off this miracle?"

"I can reconfigure the suspensor field to allow us to skirt the edge of subspace." Regina replied, bringing up a schematic depicting the necessary changes. "With the right modifications we can use the subspace anomaly in the Aquila System to reach our destination a week ahead of the Necros."

"And if you're wrong?" Deckard countered with a foreboding stare. "It's suicide entering subspace."

"No– it's science." Regina countered, rolling her eyes at his disbelief. "Have a little faith, Raymond."

"Do I look like an altar boy!" he blurted, far more abruptly then he had intended. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because this artifact is the most profound scientific discovery in the history of mankind. And– it may provide us with the only means of defeating our adversaries."

Deckard grabbed the dagger from Regina and asked, "What artifact did this come from?"

"If my calculations are correct." Regina replied, with a wide eyed grin. "It's an object of potentially limitless power."

"Limitless?"

"Yes, Raymond." Regina answered, starting the video. "I believe so."


	4. Chapter 4 A King & His Court

**Chapter 3**

 **A King & His Court**

 **Outside the Club Neutrino**

A cough resonated from the edge of the steadily expanding crowd of street walkers and Riddick noticed a short haired blonde in a silver miniskirt. She was partially obscured by the crowd but Riddick thought the woman looked familiar too.

The clearly inexperienced novice removed a neatly folded napkin from a tiny sequined handbag, dabbed the sweat from her glistening face – as to not smudge her porcaline makeup – then turned to the woman next to her and whispered, "Are we supposed to subtract our cut first?" The tone of her voice made Riddick think she was purposely making a joke of Ricco's math problem.

The woman next to her shot a stern look her way and quietly warned, "You must be new here, honey? So, let me give you some friendly advice. If you don't want to keep your teeth in a glass at the end of the night, I'd keep quiet. Because Ricco doesn't like smartass."

"I was being serious." The young blonde replied, stuffing the napkin back in the bag hanging at her side wearing a glint of devil may care.

"So was I," the other woman whispered, quickly looking down at her feet when she noticed Ricco staring at them beneath furrowed brows.

Riddick smirked at the blonde who'd wandered in from the financial district during the commotion and concluded he liked her spirit.

The financial district was always overrun with off-worlders staying in garish hotels that catered to shady characters looking to broker backroom arms deals, corrupt business deals or to purchase outlawed bio weapons.

That's another reason why the area was perfect, it was filled with the galaxy's most infamous and none of them wanted to be noticed; none of them were looking for trouble or would follow Riddick into the zone. Hell, even Dyna Corp Security wouldn't go in there and they were all equipped with state of the art OCP cybernetic enhancements. They were the best police force technology could create.

Riddick looked in the direction of the zone with a slanted grin and knew the reason why the police never went in there. For years gangs had fostered the urban legend that zenomorphs still preyed on those who went to close. It was all a lie of course, a fallacy perpetrated by lesser criminals in an effort to keep the authorities at bay. It did however, have one beneficial result, it keep out the common folk. The only reason Dyna Corp Security stayed out of the zone was because city officials ordered it. The Zone was off limits; it was a safe zone for all criminal enterprise. Most of which was operated by city officials.

But none of that mattered. Riddick knew there were no zenomorphs in the zone; because if there were, there would be no humans left alive; zenomorphs didn't play well with others.

Decades earlier, a back alley deal had gone wrong and a single zenomorph had been freed into the general populous. The resulting disaster led to the deaths of tens of thousands of civilians, destroyed nearly 400 city blocks and was responsible for the early retirement of 15,000 Nexus 6 replicants.

The unforeseen results of sacrificing so many replicants to win the battle was a replicant uprising that lasted nearly 2 decades, the sanctioning of all replicant creations from that point on and a loss of quadrillions in damages.

75 years later, the Nexus 6 program had all but faded into obscurity. Although, the originating corporation had outsourced the project to a subsidiary holding. As a result, Mega Corp tasked its leading scientists and top researchers with formulating a biomorphic serum that would duplicate the prowess of N6 replicants without raising suspicions.

Years later, A series of fruitless experiments using stem cells harvested from frozen N6 cadavers had only served to drain profits and end in disaster. That is, until a promising new research assistant stumbled upon an ingenious solution to the company's gene resequencing problems.

Soon there after, Mega Corp unveiled its newest fighting force, the N7s. During the recruitment process all candidates received a routine series of performance enhancing injections. The result was a re-sequencing of the host's DNA without anyone being the wiser, including the recipients.

The long term effects produced super soldiers with Nexus 6+ capabilities. Men and women who could easily assimilate into normal societies without the mental instability of the previous models. Mega Corp paid trillions of credits to city officials to conduct their illegal experiments in the quarantine zone.

Because of those illegal experiments, the 400 blocks lost during the initial zenomorph outbreak were left as is. The forbidden zone was a city within a city; a completely unregulated, unmonitored area cut off from prying eyes. It was a bioengineering Mecha and a galactic center for crime.

Decades after the experiments ceased, the zone was populated with thugs, criminals and society's most unwanted. Corrupt city officials used it as a base for their clandestine crime operations; operations they fiercely defended.

The zone had become the murky underbelly of corporate greed and political corruption and it was one of Riddick's favorite places. It was dark and dirty and, to him, it felt like home.

But none of that mattered for the moment, because Riddick stood in the shadows, hands balled into fists fixated on the pimps false sense of bravado. Ricco was a coward and cowards made Riddick angry. He wanted to hurt Ricco the way he tormented his girls; the way he was hurting... Shazza.

"Fucking bitches," Ricco said, glaring at the two women staring heads down. He reeled on Ginger gesturing over his shoulder with a scowl. "And if these bitches see you get away with your shit and think they can too, I'll lose more than money; I'll lose control. And that… you scurvy little bug… is never going to happen."

A shrill siren and epilepsy inducing blue strobes descended from high above the roofline and a coarse voice blared over a megaphone. "DynaCorp Security, Is there a problem here?"

In an instant, anyone caught in the blinding light shielded there eyes in pain as the audio/visual spectacle was tuned to a retinal wavelength designed to disrupt an assailant's senses leaving him temporarily incapacitated. It worked on almost everyone; everyone, except Riddick.

He managed to duck behind a smelly dumpster before the frenetic lights gave his position away. He peeked out staring up at the steaming police car hovering two stories above the street with a look of astonishment. He rubbed his eye as if there was something wrong.

Riddick hadn't been able to look into direct light since he left the sewers at Butcher Bay. But now, he stared wide-eyed into the lights of the hover cruiser and experienced no ill affect at all. His mouth fell open as the idea that yet another thing had changed since his escape from Not Furya.

If Riddick had been looking in a mirror he would have noticed the tinge of blue light emanating from somewhere deep behind his reflective pupils or seen the blue lights coursing threw his veins like fireflies swimming threw fiber optic cables. But he was engrossed in the newest epiphany.

A pebble fell from a ledge high above, hit the dumpster in front of him, bounced off and rolled to a stop between his feet. It snapped him from his trance and he craned his neck trying to see if someone was on the roof above. But after a few moments, Riddick returned his attention to the unfolding scene. Although, he never forgot about the eyes, he suspected, were watching from high above.

Ricco jammed his hand in his breast pocket, fumbled around until he felt a leather billfold and held up an entrepreneur's license for inspection.

"Fine," the voice over the megaphone said, as the lights and sirens stopped just as abruptly as they had begun. "Just take it off main street. People down the way are beginning to stare."

"Oh, I've got to get one of those." Riddick whispered to himself. "A get out of jail free card."

Long ago corrupt city officials implemented a plan wherein a not-so-elite clientele were offered unique small business licenses. The kind of licenses that let criminals skirt a number of troublesome laws as long as they were willing to donate a hefty portion of their profits to the city.

A license cost 500k and 25% of all projected yearly profits; the upfront cost could total in the millions of credits. Of course all the proceeds were covertly funneled into a number of slush funds that made city officials wealthy beyond compare. Most of the city's seedier types jumped at the opportunity to pay. Those who couldn't afford the licenses soon found themselves in the employ of those who could or, like Ricco, they were given licenses by wealthy benefactors.

Ricco put his wallet away, waved the car off and said, "I'm sorry, Ginger. It appears we'll have to finish our conversation in private." He grabbed her by the arm and laughed as she cried out in pain. "To bad for you." Ricco said, turning to the others with a glare. He pointed at the entrance to the nearby alley and said, "All you bitches, get in the back alley. Now."

Ricco shoved Ginger towards the alley laughing as she almost fell off her stilettos. "Move your ass, sweet cheeks."

"Come on," he called out, motioning for the doorman and his partner still on guard at the entrance to follow them down the street. The 2 men obeyed like well trained dogs following a brutal master.

The two doormen wore neatly pressed three piece suits that looked as though they were plucked from a bargain rack at a 1950s dime store. One of the men was nearly 7 foot tall while the other was far shorter but almost as wide. The taller of the two men had a cybernetic upgrade covering what used to be his left eye, cheek and ear, while the other guard sported hands made of shining black metal.

Ricco motioned for them to stop about twenty feet inside the alley. "Make sure no one comes in." He pulled Ginger in close and said in a velvety whisper, "We wouldn't want to be disturbed, would we baby?"

The men signaled they understood glancing over their shoulders to ensure the entrance was clear. They failed to notice the figure standing behind the dumpster just inside the corner.

 **Chapter 4**

 **The Thing Beneath The Stone**

 **Not Furya / A few weeks after Riddick's package arrived on Sigma 3**

The E.S.S. Regert exploded out of the blackness of sub-space in a ball of bluish lightning. The static discharge emanating from the ship's hull was a result of skirting a subspace corridor flooded with quantum energy. The energy moved along the outside of the hull like electric eels wriggling through glass pipes.

To everyone's relief and amazement, the near suicidal maneuver had propelled the Regert into a position 8 days ahead of the Necromonger Basilica class frigate racing to get there first. The only problem now, was the ship had exited the corridor far closer to the planet than anticipated.

"Dammit," Deckard said, pounding a console in front of a portside window. "Regina, we' don't have enough time to slow down before we reach the planet. We need to change our trajectory or we'll over shoot and lose three days."

"Commander," Lt. Williams called out over the coms, "One of Dr. Chillingsworth's assistants has a plan to use the planet and its moon's gravity to slow the ship, and place us in a geosynchronous orbit above the site."

"Make it happen, Lt." Deckard replied, heading towards the door on his way to the dropship. "Your attention." He called out over the ship wide emergency coms. "All personnel, you have ten minutes to secure your yourselves before we begin emergency braking. Don't drag ass, people. This maneuver is gonna make what happened at Lupus 5, seem like hitting a bump in the road."

He switched to a secure channel and continued, "Alpha and Bravo teams, after we're in orbit, you'll have 30 minutes to get suited up and on the dropship. Regina, I expect you to collect your equipment, and meet me in the shuttle bay, as well"

He switched back to the ship wide coms, "Listen up, intel says there's an incoming Necromonger warship a little more than a week behind us. The general has allotted us 72 hours to find the artifact, secure the area, complete our initial testing, and then, move the artifact and anything else deemed worthy onto the Regert before we nuke the site from orbit."

The crew listened to Deckard, the worry in their faces becoming a mixture of shock and awe. No one aboard had ever entered subspace or heard of anyone who had survived the attempt. But they had just done it and before they even had a chance to recover from one peril, now, they learned the Necros were coming on fast.

"So," Deckard paused to collect his thoughts. "Let's all work together to make this mission go off without incident. I want everyone at the top of their game. You all knows what's going to happen if we're still here when the Necros arrive."

"Raymond," a voice called out from the hallway behind him.

"Deckard out." he said, turning around, to meet the pair of brilliant green eyes behind him. "It looks like you were right. We made it here in one piece, after all."

Regina's right eyebrow raised. "Was there ever any doubt?"

Deckard shook his head thinking Regina was, if nothing else, confident in her abilities. "I suppose not," he answered, pressing the button for the lift. "Any idea what we'll find down there?"

Regina's expression sobered, her eyebrows furrowed deeply and she stared at Deckard as the worry in her mind filled her eyes. "I was going over the data compiled from the sample Commander Fry gave us. What I pieced together is both incredible and terrifying."

When the lift arrived, they stepped inside and Regina leaned in the corner letting the walls hold her up. Deckard could tell something was wrong. For the last two days Regina had talked endlessly about the limitless potential of the artifact and how she could not wait to see it. But now, Regina was acting as if going down to surface was dangerous.

"What's the problem?" Deckard asked. "We could've been killed just getting here and now, you choose to freak out."

"I do not freak out." Regina said, glaring at Deckard in disbelief. "You don't understand. I failed to facture in a number of crucial details. And those missing calculations could change the parameters of the entire mission."

Deckard shrugged his shoulders and replied, "It happens."

"Not to me."

Deckard's mouth dropped open as a feigned look of shock gripped his face. "The mission is a complete success. We finally have what we came for."

Regina looked as if she didn't understand. "What are you jabbering on about?"

To her utter dismay, Deckard actually laughed at her. "You made a mistake. We can finally prove you're human."

"I made no mistake," she replied wearing a cross expression. "I only made a slight oversight."

"And there it is, proof you have no sense of humor."

Regina paid no attention to Deckard's attempts at levity. Instead, she just kept talking. "The sample contains an unnaturally high concentration of subatomic particles called Bosons; nearly 10,000 times higher than normal."

Deckard's eyebrows furrowed inward as if her explanation caused him pain. He didn't understand why she was so worried. "Your point?"

"In addition," she continued, not understanding why he was being difficult. "It also contains a massive concentration of Graviton particles." Regina peered through him as if reviewing a chart she'd seen earlier in the day. "I initially believed the artifact was just an advanced field generator." She explained, returning to him with a worried expression. "But now…"

"Now…" he repeated.

"I believe it has the ability to create multiple fields simultaneously."

"That's it." Deckard replied matter-of-factly. "A few bells and whistles."

Regina shook her head at Deckard as if he was purposely being obtuse. "The artifact uses a spin 2 field to draw energy directly from subspace."

"Are you saying…"

"Yes, Raymond. It draws power from the Underverse." Regina said, completing his thought.

Deckard stared towards the back of the ship, pointed in the direction of the ship following them and said, "That can't be a coincidence? The Necros must know what this thing is."

"I believe you may be right."

"What is this thing, Regina? And why do they want it so badly?"

She shook her head as if it was unclear. "I think it uses ultra dense Higgs Boson particles in conjunction with quantum tunneling and a vacuum decay field to systematically disassemble and rewrite DNA at the subatomic level."

"For what purpose?"

"To create a being unlike anything ever seen before."

"If that's true, then anybody who touches the artifact would be rewritten."

"I doubt it. That kind of power would be catastrophic in the wrong hands. You wouldn't want to give it to just anyone."

Deckard thought about the N7 program and said, "Taylor made supersoldier."

"Or God." Regina added.

"That's not possible."

"Not at our current level of understanding." Regina said. "But who knows how advanced the civilization was that created the devise."

"I suppose it's possible." Deckard replied. "The company does it all the time."

"No, Raymond." Regina explained. "They use stem cell injections to add a number of desirable traits and that takes years to complete."

"Then who created a device that advanced?"

"No idea. That technology is simply beyond human understanding or capability." Regina replied, as the door to the lift opened and one of her assistants stood in the hallway waiting for her.

He handed her a bag and they turned to leave, but Deckard said, "If Riddick touched the device and survived. Then, someone somewhere has to know how it works."

She turned to Deckard with a worried frown and replied, "I'm sorry Raymond, but you're wrong. No one from this Universe knows how it works, because its not from here; it cant be; the technology is simply beyond our understanding."

Deckard shrugged and said, "Whatever. Riddick survived."

"Did he?" She asked. The dire expression spreading across her face was a mixture of empathy and uncertainty. "Without knowing how the devise works or what it does, there's no way of knowing who, or what, emerged from beneath the artifact."


	5. Chapter 5 The Thing Beneath The Stone

**Chapter 4**

 **The Thing Beneath The Stone**

 **Not Furya / A few weeks after Riddick's package arrived on Sigma 3**

The E.S.S. Regert exploded out of the blackness of sub-space in a ball of bluish lightning. The static discharge emanating from the ship's hull was a result of skirting a subspace corridor flooded with quantum energy. The energy moved along the outside of the hull like electric eels wriggling through glass pipes.

To everyone's relief and amazement, the near suicidal maneuver had propelled the Regert into a position 8 days ahead of the Necromonger Basilica class frigate racing to get there first. The only problem now, was the ship had exited the corridor far closer to the planet than anticipated.

"Dammit," Deckard said, pounding a console in front of a portside window. "Regina, we' don't have enough time to slow down before we reach the planet. We need to change our trajectory or we'll over shoot and lose three days."

"Commander," Lt. Williams called out over the coms, "One of Dr. Chillingsworth's assistants has a plan to use the planet and its moon's gravity to slow the ship, and place us in a geosynchronous orbit above the site."

"Make it happen, Lt." Deckard replied, heading towards the door on his way to the dropship. "Your attention." He called out over the ship wide emergency coms. "All personnel, you have ten minutes to secure your yourselves before we begin emergency braking. Don't drag ass, people. This maneuver is gonna make what happened at Lupus 5, seem like hitting a bump in the road."

He switched to a secure channel and continued, "Alpha and Bravo teams, after we're in orbit, you'll have 30 minutes to get suited up and on the dropship. Regina, I expect you to collect your equipment, and meet me in the shuttle bay, as well"

He switched back to the ship wide coms, "Listen up, intel says there's an incoming Necromonger warship a little more than a week behind us. The general has allotted us 72 hours to find the artifact, secure the area, complete our initial testing, and then, move the artifact and anything else deemed worthy onto the Regert before we nuke the site from orbit."

The crew listened to Deckard, the worry in their faces becoming a mixture of shock and awe. No one aboard had ever entered subspace or heard of anyone who had survived the attempt. But they had just done it and before they even had a chance to recover from one peril, now, they learned the Necros were coming on fast.

"So," Deckard paused to collect his thoughts. "Let's all work together to make this mission go off without incident. I want everyone at the top of their game. You all knows what's going to happen if we're still here when the Necros arrive."

"Raymond," a voice called out from the hallway behind him.

"Deckard out." he said, turning around, to meet the pair of brilliant green eyes behind him. "It looks like you were right. We made it here in one piece, after all."

Regina's right eyebrow raised. "Was there ever any doubt?"

Deckard shook his head thinking Regina was, if nothing else, confident in her abilities. "I suppose not," he answered, pressing the button for the lift. "Any idea what we'll find down there?"

Regina's expression sobered, her eyebrows furrowed deeply and she stared at Deckard as the worry in her mind filled her eyes. "I was going over the data compiled from the sample Commander Fry gave us. What I pieced together is both incredible and terrifying."

When the lift arrived, they stepped inside and Regina leaned in the corner letting the walls hold her up. Deckard could tell something was wrong. For the last two days Regina had talked endlessly about the limitless potential of the artifact and how she could not wait to see it. But now, Regina was acting as if going down to surface was dangerous.

"What's the problem?" Deckard asked. "We could've been killed just getting here and now, you choose to freak out."

"I do not freak out." Regina said, glaring at Deckard in disbelief. "You don't understand. I failed to facture in a number of crucial details. And those missing calculations could change the parameters of the entire mission."

Deckard shrugged his shoulders and replied, "It happens."

"Not to me."

Deckard's mouth dropped open as a feigned look of shock gripped his face. "The mission is a complete success. We finally have what we came for."

Regina looked as if she didn't understand. "What are you jabbering on about?"

To her utter dismay, Deckard actually laughed at her. "You made a mistake. We can finally prove you're human."

"I made no mistake," she replied wearing a cross expression. "I only made a slight oversight."

"And there it is, proof you have no sense of humor."

Regina paid no attention to Deckard's attempts at levity. Instead, she just kept talking. "The sample contains an unnaturally high concentration of subatomic particles called Bosons; nearly 10,000 times higher than normal."

Deckard's eyebrows furrowed inward as if her explanation caused him pain. He didn't understand why she was so worried. "Your point?"

"In addition," she continued, not understanding why he was being difficult. "It also contains a massive concentration of Graviton particles." Regina peered through him as if reviewing a chart she'd seen earlier in the day. "I initially believed the artifact was just an advanced field generator." She explained, returning to him with a worried expression. "But now…"

"Now…" he repeated.

"I believe it has the ability to create multiple fields simultaneously."

"That's it." Deckard replied matter-of-factly. "A few bells and whistles."

Regina shook her head at Deckard as if he was purposely being obtuse. "The artifact uses a spin 2 field to draw energy directly from subspace."

"Are you saying…"

"Yes, Raymond. It draws power from the Underverse." Regina said, completing his thought.

Deckard stared towards the back of the ship, pointed in the direction of the ship following them and said, "That can't be a coincidence? The Necros must know what this thing is."

"I believe you may be right."

"What is this thing, Regina? And why do they want it so badly?"

She shook her head as if it was unclear. "I think it uses ultra dense Higgs Boson particles in conjunction with quantum tunneling and a vacuum decay field to systematically disassemble and rewrite DNA at the subatomic level."

"For what purpose?"

"To create a being unlike anything ever seen before."

"If that's true, then anybody who touches the artifact would be rewritten."

"I doubt it. That kind of power would be catastrophic in the wrong hands. You wouldn't want to give it to just anyone."

Deckard thought about the N7 program and said, "Taylor made supersoldier."

"Or God." Regina added.

"That's not possible."

"Not at our current level of understanding." Regina said. "But who knows how advanced the civilization was that created the devise."

"I suppose it's possible." Deckard replied. "The company does it all the time."

"No, Raymond." Regina explained. "They use stem cell injections to add a number of desirable traits and that takes years to complete."

"Then who created a device that advanced?"

"No idea. That technology is simply beyond human understanding or capability." Regina replied, as the door to the lift opened and one of her assistants stood in the hallway waiting for her.

He handed her a bag and they turned to leave, but Deckard said, "If Riddick touched the device and survived. Then, someone somewhere has to know how it works."

She turned to Deckard with a worried frown and replied, "I'm sorry Raymond, but you're wrong. No one from this Universe knows how it works, because its not from here; it cant be; the technology is simply beyond our understanding."

Deckard shrugged and said, "Whatever. Riddick survived."

"Did he?" She asked. The dire expression spreading across her face was a mixture of empathy and uncertainty. "Without knowing how the devise works or what it does, there's no way of knowing who, or what, emerged from beneath the artifact."


	6. Chapter 6 Why Me

**Chapter 5**

 **Why Me**

 **The alley beside Club Neutrino**

"Now. Where were we?" Ricco began, approaching Ginger like a predator stalking its cornered prey.

"My kid was sick," Ricco thought out loud, stopping almost midstride with his mouth opening as a shadow of anger gripped his sullen features. "You bitch," he said, realizing Ginger had accidentally told him something inadvertently "I called you a hundred times," Ricco said, taking a step closer. He pointed at the shorter body guard. "I sent Michaelson to your fuckin' house. You never answered the door."

"I'm sorry," Ginger said, stepping back in fear of the reprisal everyone knew was coming.

Ricco's fists balled in rage. "And now, you I learn you were at home the whole time. Just sitting there listening to the phone ring; listening to someone knock on the door; just so you could baby sit your sick brat."

Ricco pulled back his right fist, readying to punch Ginger in the face, all the while, unaware of the brick tumbling through the air behind him.

The lightpole across the street exploded in a ball of white hot sparks that descended like falling stars in the damp night air. The points of light fizzled out on the wet pavement causing a group of unsuspecting passersby to jump out of the way.

Ricco jerked around in shock and yelled down the alley at the group of wiry boys across the street, "I just had that light replaced you little bastards!"

They ran away when Ricco motioned for his goons to get them. The two lumbering giants had little chance of success as the group was long gone before they reacted.

"Fucking amateurs." Riddick said to himself, dropping the brick in his other hand.

"What's his problem?" the shorter body guard asked, leaning closer to ensure his covert whisper wasn't overheard.

"The little fucker's afraid of the dark."

"No shit?"

"No shit," The taller guard chuckled. "I'm amazed he's even out here."

"What's the deal?"

"Jameson told me Ricco's mother used to lock him in their cellar when he was a kid. He huddled in a corner, screaming as the giant rats scurried by taking little bites as they passed."

"I wondered why I've never seen him with one of the girls. I was beginning to think he didn't like women. Now I see the little pussy hates them."

"Especially his mother."

"I thought they were tight?" the stout doorman asked. "Didn't she give him the club?

"Sure." The taller body guard explained. "She even bought his license and set him up in the biz?"

"So, they are close?"

"No way." The lanky bodyguard laughed to himself. "The bitch is a control freak. Ricco's mommy wanted junior to uphold the precious family name and take over the business, and when he refused, mommy threatened to cut him off. As I hear it, the little fucker wanted to be an architect."

"Seriously," the shorter man said with a snort, "The Prince of pussy wanted to be an architect?" He looked to his companion and added, "Now that is fuckin' rich."

"To bad for him, mommy thought it would be best if her baby boy stayed at home and ran the family business. You know, drugs… gambling... prostitution. Just the kind of life every good mother wants for her baby boy."

Riddick shook his head, at the two buffoons and asked himself, "Why me?"

"Because you're a hero, Riddick." A voice answered from around the corner.

Riddick didn't turn to see who was there. He recognized the voice from the past. "I blame you for this, Martin."

A giant man wearing battered Company Ranger armor rounded the corner and stopped at a safe distance. Martin looked like to much muscle stuffed into a child's suit of armor. He waited to see what Riddick's reaction would be before approaching.

"Oh, how so?" Martin replied.

Riddick looked over his shoulder, noticed the N7 badge on his right breastplate and replied, "If you were here three d0ays ago, when you were supposed to be, I wouldn't be in this predicament now."

"I needed to take care of a few last minute details before I left Sigma 3," Martin replied, looking over Riddick's shoulder at the scene unfolding by the rear entrance. "Besides, you can still choose to walk away."

"I used to think so," Riddick replied, thinking about a time before the Necromongers. "But something feels different since Krone left me for dead." Riddick gestured to the roof overhead. "I suppose it's your team watching from the rooftops?"

Martin scanned the ledges overhead for signs of movement, his tightened eyelids pressed down into narrow slits as he strained to focus on the distant ledges. "I can't see anyone up there. But if someone is up there, they're not mine." he replied, shaking his head as if doubting anyone was there. Martin looked to Riddick with an angry sneer. "The brass sent my ship and team one way and I came here."

In his youth, Riddick had been a highly decorated Company Ranger and a team leader himself. So, he was well aware of mission procedures. "Bullshit, That's not protocol. No one gives up a ship command to go it alone."

Martin's left eyebrow rose up pulling the corner of his mouth into a smirk and he laughed to himself. "I stopped following protocols the minute the most wanted man in the universe left a coded message and a package on my door step." Martin studied Riddick's face thinking about the bases impenetrable security. "A doorstep I might add, that's inside the most highly fortified compound in the Universe. Care to explain how you managed that little feat?"

"Not really."

Martin reached in his breast pocket, took out an audio message and a voice said, "I need help. Have this dagger checked and meet me in your old neighborhood. Come alone and bring answers." Martin tossed the device in the dumpster and said, "Well, if you didn't realize it, this is what alone looks like." Martin gestured around at nothing wearing an annoyed expression. "I am sorry if you were expecting something else."

Riddick reeled on him preparing to seize Martin, but stopped when he saw Martin's expression suddenly change. Martin was staring over Riddick's shoulder, mouth agape in utter shock as if he was looking at a ghost.

"What"

Martin stepped around Riddick walking out into the street as if he were a piece of steel being drawn towards a powerful magnet. Riddick grabbed Martin's armor, hauled him back behind the dumpster and shook him. "What the hell are you doing? You don't break cover. You don't give away a concealed position."

Martin stared straight through Riddick, mind caught up a whirlwind of forgotten memories swirling in front of his eyes. Martin tried to get away, to get a closer look at what was happening, but Riddick held him fast.

"Let me go. That's… that's my mom." He stammered.

"Excuse me," Riddick replied, pausing as if he hadn't heard Martin correctly. "What are you saying?"

"I said," he began, shoving Riddick off. "She's my mom."

Riddick slammed Martin against the brick corner again, jammed his dagger against Martin's thick throat studying his face for signs of deceit. "What's your game? Where's your team? I know you didn't come her alone." Riddick said, "And what's this horseshit about your mom? You told me she was killed in the zone when you were 10. Or was that a lie too?"

"I didn't lie. A Dyna Corp detective told me they found her body on Cortland Ave."

"Exactly, so how can that hooker be your dead mom?" Riddick replied, shaking him as if trying to rouse him from a dream. "What did those butcher on Sigma 3, do to you?"

Even though a large bump was growing on the back of Martin's head, he never registered the impact or the cold sharp blade against his throat. Martin just stood there, eyes pleading for an explanation.

Riddick lowered his weapon staring at him as if Martin had gone crazy. "What's wrong with you? You come here spouting nonsense. Did the company's new N7 cocktail turn your brain to mush?"

"No one shot me up with anything." Martin replied.

"Bullshit." Riddick countered, slapping the N7 badge on his chest. "Everyone wearing this badge gets the juice."

Martin shoved him back. "Not me."

"What makes you so special?"

"You know an awful lot about top secret Company dealings, don't you." Martin said, coming out of his reverie.

"I keep my ears open when it comes to the people who murdered my wife and framed me. Besides," Riddick said, offering a dark smile. "You never know when the opportunity for a little payback may present itself.

"Say what…" Martin said with a dark grimace, "You didn't get your fill for payback after you escaped Deep Storage? After you went back to Sigma 3 and slaughtered them all."

"They set me on this course the day they took her from me."

Martin shook his head no. "That's the thing. I don't think the Rangers took her from you."

"They did!"

"No." Martin protested. "There's a much darker plan at work here and it started long before Saint Mary's Orphanage."

"What started?"

"Listen," Martin began, staring around at the bright lights and gaudy Marquette. "I'll tell you everything I know about why I didn't get the injections and what happened to you on Not Furya, if you tell me, why you choose this place?"

"I needed somewhere no one would follow us." Riddick explained, "Someplace where I knew you could find me." He gestured around and added, "A place where you could explain what happened to me without distraction."

"And this is your idea of… without distraction," Martin countered, gesturing at the filled streets and angry pimp in the distance. "You brought me to a world filled with the ghosts of my past expecting what exactly? A tearful reunion; maybe you wanted an excuse to shiv my ass because you still blame me for not being there when you needed me; for what they did to Bree."

"I never blamed you for what happened." Riddick said, shaking his head at him. "That's on me. I was at fault."

"No, what you were, was a good husband, a descent friend…" Martin put his hand on Riddick's chest. "and an honorable man."

"Only because of her."

"Perhaps," he admitted, "Bree had a way of making others into better people."

"She did me."

"Me too."

Riddick didn't want to talk about her, he didn't want to think of those times, even if they were the best days of if his life.

Martin moved him to one side trying to get a better look at Ginger. He shook his head as if trying to clear away the heavy layer of fog descending over his mind. "For what it's worth, I am sorry."

"What's wrong?"

"This place is wrong."

Riddick nodded, "I hear that."

"This is gonna sound nuts."

Riddick laughed and said, "No more than anything else has tonight."

"I don't think we're here because you chose this place. I think we're here because someone else did."

Riddick rolled his eyes and grimaced. "You're right, that's nuts. Because I set up this meeting. No one else did; just me."

"OK. Would it be fair to say you feel drawn to this place? You feel at home here; you feel safe here."

"I don't know," Riddick replied, his expression becoming worrisome. "I suppose so., why?"

Martin pointed to the unfolding scene, his eyes fixed on the hooker like two opalescent screens flashing the images of a woman long forgotten. "Because I can't shake the feeling she's my mom." He looked to Riddick and added, "And I don't mean she just looks like my mom. I'm telling you that's my mom."

"Your mom was a hooker?"

"No!"

"That's my point." Riddick replied. "So, you know that's crazy."

"I suppose," he replied, the expression on his face signaled the topic was closed. "How about you, have you seen anything strange since you got here?"

"You mean stranger than a ghost hooker?"

"Wait – What?" Martin replied as if he hadn't heard Riddick correctly. "She looks like a ghost and you're giving me shit about being crazy."

"It's not possible." Riddick said, staring at Ginger over the shoulders of the 2 cackling doormen. "She's just some random hooker."

Martin laughed and said, "If you keep saying that enough, you might actually start believing it."

"I know it's not possible. But I'm certain she's –."

"Dead." Martin finished.

"Definitely," he said, thinking nothing made sense anymore. Riddick was certain Ginger was Shazza Montgomery, even though he knew that was no more likely than her being Martin's long dead mother. "Ginger over there," Riddick said, pointing from the unfolding scene to the center of the city, "isn't the only out of place person I've seen around here."

"I know," Martin said, "I've seen other people who look…"

"Out of place."

"No… out of time." Martin replied. "I haven't been here since I was 10 and yet… this place hasn't changed and neither have the people. It looks exactly like it did when I was a kid."

"Familiar," Riddick said to himself, looking around at the lights drinking in a sense of déjà vu.

"No." Martin cut in. "Exactly the same."

"This place feels like home." Riddick added. "It's like I've been here a hundred times before. But I haven't."

"I told you. Something weird is going on."

"I know what you mean," Riddick said, gesturing towards the west end of the city. "There's an old guy hanging around the corner on Boylston St. I could swear he's the guy I met in the sewers under Butcher Bay. In fact. I'm sure it's him."

"Is it me," Martin said with a raised brow. "or does it seem like the same faces are comin' round again and again."

"It feels like something's watching through their eyes." Riddick said, fighting back the feeling something was dark was coming. He knew there were people here that shouldn't be and knew there was no logical explanation why they were.

"You never spoke of this place when we were kids; you only told me your mom died here."

"I didn't say much, because I couldn't remember much." Martin answered, still staring off in the direction of Boylston St. "It was like my life here never happened." He scratched his head. "I don't know if I forgot because I was just a kid or if something happened to me back then. Either way, that kid is long gone."

"That reminds me," Riddick said, before he could continue, "Speaking of that kid, I wanted to ask you about something you said earlier?"

"Go ahead."

"If you were such a sickly kid when you were here, how is it when we met you were the biggest 10 year old I've ever seen?"

"I don't know. But I think we'll find out soon enough."

"Find out how?"

"Simple. Ever since I stepped off the transport I started remembering what happened here. It's all flooding back like its happening right now." He gestured at Ginger like she was a long lost friend. "Even her. I even forgot her. How can you forget your own mother? What kind of shit kid does forgets his mom? I mean she died and I couldn't even remember her face."

Riddick reached out, squeezed Martin's shoulder. "Brother, she's not your mom," Riddick gestured to the dark area behind a chain-link fence marked Quarantine Zone. "They found her out in the zone."

Martin remembered the Dyna Corp detective that came to there home the night his mother died. He was a medium build, olive skinned man in his late 30s with jet black hair and a thick Spanish accent. His face was one of 2 thing Martin had never forgotten; the other was a street address, 317 Cortland Avenue.

"I told you the story the cop told me; nothing more; nothing less." He looked over Riddick's shoulder in the direction of Boylston Street and a dark thought passed over his face; a thought Riddick recognized all to well; it was the need for vengeance. "I don't know that old fucker on the corner is still kicking. But he hasn't aged a day since I was a kid."

"Who is he?"

"I think his name is Joe something or other. As far as I can remember, he used to be a veterinarian or something like that."

"On my way out of Butcher Bay, I met a guy in the sewers. He went by the name Pope Joe." Riddick explained. He pointed at his eyes and said, "He's the one who gave me these."

Martin looked over his shoulder towards the horizon and said, "I suppose he could be the same guy."

"That was twenty years ago."

"He looks just like the nut-job who attacked Bree the night our mother died." Martin said, turning back to Riddick. "Dyna Corp arrested him and locked his ass away in Butcher Bay when we were kids."

Riddick's veins ran cold, his eyes filled with a terrifying blue light and his body hummed, or at least, that's what it sounded like in his head. "Are you saying someone attacked my wife when you were kids and this is the first time I'm hearing about it?"

Martin turned to him with a foreboding expression. "I couldn't tell you what I didn't remember," he said, waving him off before he could go on. "And no, I don't think Bree remembers this place either. In fact, I know she doesn't."

"You meant… remembered," Riddick replied with a furrowed brow. "or is everybody coming back from the dead now?"

"Sorry." Martin apologized with a apologetic shrug. "But you've got to admit, it's one thing for us to have never spoken about this place, but it's something all together different that my sister and I never spoke of this place."

"Really."

"Not once," Martin stressed, straining to remember. "I can't think of a single conversation about our mother, her death in a fire or even what happened to Bree that night. It was as if none of it happened. I didn't even remember the sound of my own mother voice until I heard talking over there." He explained pointing at Ginger through eyes of nostalgia.

"like I said, that's not your mom; she's just a hooker, that's all."

"If that's true. Then answer me one question, who is she to you? Because I can see it in your eyes. I know you know her. And I don't mean knew her. Because, as crazy as it sounds, I know you believe she's the same woman."

"Her name is... was... Shazza Montgomery."

"Why's that name sound familiar?" Martin asked himself. "You mean Sharon Montgomery, Robert Montgomery's daughter. The Australian industrialist slash co-founder of Dyna Corp. Security and C.E.O. of Interstellar Arms, the owner operator of Sigma 3, and the Company Rangers. And you don't find that to be an coincidence."

"She was on the Hunter-Gratzner when it went down. I watched her buy it. There was no way she survived. She was torn to pieces."

Martin scowled at Riddick for a moment and said, "This fucking shit just keeps getting better by the minute."

"What now?"

"I don't even know where to begin. There's so much I need to tell you and most of it is–" Martin paused mid-thought.

"Is..." Riddick repeated, ushering him to finish his sentence.

Martin shook his head and answered, "Beyond belief."

Riddick looked back at Ginger, thinking of another woman, "I so hoped you weren't going to say that."

"So, you admit it. You think she's Montgomery."

"Like I said, without proof it's just not possible."

"I can't prove any of it," Martin said, turning to Ginger. "If I could, then I could prove she's my mom too."

"No, you can't prove any of it. But there is something you can do for me."

"Anything."

"Tell me everything you know about the night Bree was attacked."

"Why?"

Riddick put his hand up as if feeling the damp air and replied, "Because Something bad is coming. I can feel it all around us."


	7. Chapter 7 A Boy And His Rocket

**Chapter 6**

 **A Boy and His Rocket**

 **The poor side of town / decades earlier / when Martin was still a boy**

Lightning flashed, thunder shook the room and a sickly boy screamed in the dark. Martin yanked the covers over his throbbing head like a protective cocoon that would shield him from the coming storm. Although, lightning routinely struck the outside of the deflector shield it had never penetrated the shield high or reached the city. But Martin still believed that someday his house would be leveled.

Breanna ran through the bedroom door carrying a hot bowl of steaming broth. The light flooding in behind her did little to guide her steps towards the single bed nestled in the corner. She stubbed her toes on a pile of hastily discarded toys in the middle of the floor, almost dropped the soup on her feet and juggled the bowl to a rest on the side table. Hot broth slopped over the edge and she winced in pain as her pale fingers turned a bright shade of pink.

"Dammit," she muttered, lowering herself onto the bed next to her little brother wiping the hot liquid off with the hem of her careworn blue dress.

"Bedside lamp on," Martin said from beneath the covers and the light came on.

She looked around the room, shook her head at the minefield of toys littering the worn carpet. "Activate cleaning bot in bedroom 2."

A small trapdoor in the far corner opened and a moment later, a rectangular shaped robot warbled out into the middle of the room. It spun in a circle, surveying the toys and then made an exasperated wine before extending a crane like arm.

Breanna pulled the covers off Martin's face and said, "It's all right, it's just a passing storm."

"Mom said you're not supposed to swear." Martin teased with a halfhearted grin. He always teased Breanna, partly because it was the only to get attention and partly because his sister overreacted every time he teased her.

Breanna stuck her tongue out at him. "Well, Mom isn't here, is she?" she said, "So, that means I'm in charge. And I say when Mom's not home, I can swear."

Martin tried to sit up, got wrapped up in the heavy quilt and knocked a 3' tall rocket off the edge of the bed. Breanna caught it just before it hit the floor and placed it next to the nightstand as if it were readying for launch. The long glossy white rocket had a wide red ring about ¾ of the way up the fuselage and long red fins with a Company Ranger insignia at the centers. It was Martin's favorite toy and the only one not broken.

Breanna watched a single bead of sweat trickle down his blotchy red face, touched his burning cheeks and felt the damp covers beneath her other hand and knew Martin was getting sicker. "You need to eat something. I found some chicken broth and crackers in the cupboard over the stove. I think you might be able to keep it down."

Martin pushed her hand away from his face. He hated chicken broth – not that the unnaturally yellow liquid was actually chicken – it was saline with artificial chicken flavor. Martin knew there were no chickens in the Helios system. "You're not the boss of me," he snapped flipping the blankets off his wiry legs. "Besides, I'm not hungry." The cool night air hit his soaking wet pajamas and a spasm left him shaking uncontrollably. Breanna tried to flip the covers back over him but Martin had already managed to force his legs off the edge of the bed. As so as he reached an upright position his tiny frame gave out and Breanna caught him around the waist.

"What are you doing?" Breanna shrieked, as she fought to hold Martin up. "Get back in bed before you hurt yourself."

"Get off," he replied, pushing her away. "If I wanted a wedgy, I would have asked." He almost fell again but managed to grab the corner of the bedside table to steady himself. "I have to go pee." He pointed at the bed with an angry sneer and added, "Unless you feel like cleaning that mess."

"What's your problem?" Breanna replied in a hurt tone. "I'm just trying to help, you little booger."

Martin hated the way Breanna always mothered him; It made him fell like a baby; it made him feel helpless. "You don't have to take care of me all the time you know. I can do somethings by myself."

Breanna looked as though Martin had slapped her. She threw her arms in the air and snapped, "Fine." Martin almost fell again, but righted himself by seizing her shoulder this time. She shook her head at him the way she always did and added, "Hey, I don't see anybody else around here willing to take care of you. Do you?"

"If all I am is some unwanted chore, then leave. Everybody else does!" he shouted, coughing up a large green gob of thick phlegm that flew out of his chapped lips and stuck on his chin.

Breanna wiped the mucus off with her shirt sleeve barely managing not to be sick and blurted, "Of course not. But you know she's a lousy…"

"Shut up," Martin cut in. "Mom does the best she can." Martin hastily added, defending his absentee mother. He routinely came to her defense; not because he believed Breanna was wrong, but rather, because he knew she was right. "It's not her fault. She pays the bills, keeps a roof over our heads and feeds us. Isn't that enough?"

"No, I don't think it is." She replied, shaking her head. Breanna loved her mother but resented all the time her mother was gone. "Now go pee and get back in bed before I have to carry you back."

Martin tottered towards the bathroom door like a drunk leaving a bar at closing time. He stopped at the doorway, gripping the knob to keep from falling over and turned it ever so slowly. The latch clicked open and Breanna watched the comedy routine thinking it was lucky the door swung in or Martin would have never gotten it open.

Martin stopped just inside the threshold, turned back to his sister and asked, " Do you think mom is going to get in trouble? She has missed so much time because of me."

Breanna heard the question but pretended to be straightening the covers as an excuse not to answer. When she didn't hear the door shut, she looked over her shoulder and replied, "It'll be fine. Mr. Paloteri is a reasonable boss." But Breanna was worried. Secretaries didn't earn a lot of money and they were barely making it as it was. If her mother was fired they would be out on the street. She felt a pang of guilt when looking at Martin's rocket and wishing she could just get in and fly away from it all.

Martin emerged from the bathroom shakier than when he went in, dodged the rickety old robot clearing the minefield of old toys and barely made it back to bed before collapsing. He grimaced as his back hit the bed and said, "Gross, these sheets are soaking wet and cold."

Breanna helped him to a nearby chair, brought him fresh pajamas and replaced the bedding while Martin changed to avoid having to look at his emaciated form. Martin was so small Breanna was actually frightened to look at him naked. After Martin was settled, she placed his rocket back on the bed beside him and asked, "Why do you like this thing anyhow?"

"Because the Rangers are heroes and I'm going to be a hero one day too."

Martin was fixated with everything the Company Rangers did. So much so, both Breanna and their mother tried to steer the conversation away from the Rangers every time Martin brought the subject up. Not because they didn't want him to join their ranks but because Martin was a frail child prone to illness and accident. Martin had a congenital heart condition that made him smaller than the other kids. The condition also left him plagued by respiratory problems that often kept him inside for weeks at a time. When Martin was born, doctors had told their mother he would succumb to illness before his 16th birthday. Breanna realized the doctors were right.

Breanna patted Martin's head with a smile on her face and he batted her hand away. "If you're want to be in the Rangers someday, you'll have to eat your soup... even if you don't like it."

Martin picked up the bowl of broth that had cooled in his absence, perched it on his lap and said, "Soup usually has stuff in it."

Breanna wanted to say something but held her tongue in an effort to get him to eat. She smiled down as Martin slurped the spoon. "I have to go get your medicine. I'll be back soon." She tucked the cover beneath his sides and added, "When you finish your broth try to get some sleep."

He grinned up at her and teased, "OK, Mom."

Breanna's right eyebrow lifted slightly as she fought to suppress a smile. She only pretended to let Martin's jabs bother her. So, in usual form, she stopped at the door, looked back over her shoulder and replied, "Little booger."

Martin smiled back triumphantly as Breanna closed the door between them.

He finished his liquid meal and sipped on the cup of water Breanna had placed on the bedside stand while he was in the bathroom. He picked up his rocket, tried to lift it into the air as if it were launching but his weary limbs lost power and the tall rocket crashed back onto the launch pad. Martin's strength was exhausted. He laid down, pulled the soft dry blanket around his face and decided to leave the light on because the darkness frightened him. The sound of soft snoring filled the room almost instantly.

Breanna came in a few minutes later, kissed him on the sweaty forehead and whispered, "I'll be home with your medicine as soon as I can, little Ranger." She plugged in a small rechargeable nightlight beside his bed. "Light off," she said, watching the cleaning bot limp back into the wall.

The night air was wet, it had been raining earlier that evening and the streets were still damp with rain water. The streets were congested more so than usual, there must have been an event going on over in the financial district. The unanticipated crowds avoiding deep puddles slowed Breanna's progress far more than she liked.

For the first 10 blocks, Breanna had worried Martin's illness was becoming serious. But after only making it only a 1/3 of the way there in an hour, she was terrified she might not make it at all and Martin's illness would become life threatening.

Breanna looked up, hoping to see the stars, but knowing they wouldn't be there. She had been born under the shield and never actually seen stars in anything other than pictures.

The deflector shield over the city obscured the stars giving the night sky an eerie blank look as if you were looking at the back of your eyelids. Not even the gaudy neon lights reflected off the surface of the shield as it was designed to absorb energy; even light rays. She was used to the empty sky overhead but not the large crowds of gawking off worlders stopping every so often to stare up in disbelief. The constant roadblocks caused her to have to wait or go around. In an effort to reach the pharmacy, Breanna began walking on the edge of the street dodging the occasional electric vehicle passing by at dizzying speeds.

The hour was growing late. Time was running out and Breanna saw the affects of the explosion before hearing or feeling it. A blinding white light lit up the city behind her casting a 300 foot jet black shadow that stretched outward from her feet to the horizon. A split second later, a gust of searing hot wind slammed her to the ground with enough force to knock the breath from her lungs.

Breanna rolled onto her backside, hands covering her ears as the explosion reflected off the barrier. That's not supposed to happen she thought. Tears poured down her dirty cheeks as blood trickled from her scuffed knees to the tops of her feet. Some of the horrified pedestrians near her pulled themselves to their feet and ran screaming while others stood in shock staring at the eruption of flames in the distance; the quarantine zone was on fire and even though the flames were 25 blocks away, Breanna could feel the heat reflecting off the shield thousands of feet above the city. That was equally bad. The shield capacitors had overloaded and now energy was deflecting back down onto the city. "Can the lightning storm get through?" she asked herself.

But there was no time to think, Breanna looked up, saw one whole sector of the city go dark and then another. She stood up, mouth agape staring at the oncoming darkness and was gripped by one thought; Martin was home alone. She knew their home was far enough from the fire to be unharmed but the power outages meant Martin only had a battery operated night light for company. She prayed he hadn't been woken up by the explosion.

Then it struck her, if the power outage reached Boylston Street before she did, she wouldn't be able to purchase Martin's medicine.

Breanna reeled around darting through the mesmerized crowd standing in the streets like storefront manikins and barely made it a hundred feet before the crowd made progress all but impossible. A mass of gawking spectators had flooded the street to witness the flames first hand and none of them seemed interested in letting her pass.

The darkness raced passed her stopping a few blocks ahead. She was lucky, the power outage had stopped just two blocks short of reaching Boylston Street. But she didn't feel a sense of relief until a sign for Boylston Street came into view. It was 8:58PM, and Martin's would be savior was still standing at the bottom of the long street leading up a steep hill. Realizing the lights in the pharmacy were still on, she ran up the hill wearing a giant grin. There may still be time she thought, the open sign in the front window still glowed red.

She raced as fast as her legs would carry her, shoving passed onlookers who didn't see her or care to stand aside. An old wino preaching an end of days sermon stood on a box in the near distance. His voice boomed over the din as if the old man was yelling to her. For a brief moment, their eyes met and Breanna stopped to hear him speak. The crowd melted away as he called to her with his eyes. In the brief time she listened, the pharmacy's outside lights switched off, the open sign faded away and darkness filled the inside. Breanna ran to the door, tugged at the handle, kicked at the glass and screamed for someone to help. But no one came; the pharmacy had closed.

The old man on the corner came over to her side, handed her a handkerchief to wipe the blood off her knees and said, "It's all right little one. The master always provides."

"Will the master get me the medicine I need to save my little brother?" she snapped, pointing at the shelves on the other side of the counter.

The old man stared down at her with a look of reverence that made her feel uneasy. "Indeed the master will, my child. You simply have to run around to the back door and catch the pharmacist before he leaves. I'm certain if your intent is worthy, he will help."

Breanna didn't think about anything other than returning home with Martin's medicine. She barged passed the old man almost knocking him off his feet, rounded the corner into a tall narrow alley that stunk of garbage and sewer. The alley was dimly lit with one way in and one way out and a more cautious person would have thought twice before running in alone. But she was on a mission.

Breanna ran through the alley scaring stray cats off dumpsters and rounded the back corner just in time to watch a hover car lift off in a cloud of white vapor and wind. She screamed for the pharmacist to wait; to come back and help. But the car slipped into the blank sky above and sped away.

The old man stood in the shadows of the empty alley peering around the edge of the corner watching in silence. When Breanna was alone, the old man placed one hand over his heart, raised the other high into the air and prayed, "Just as you foretold, master. She has come."

Before Breanna could react the old man was behind her covering her mouth with alcohol soaked hand and dragging her kicking wildly into the alley far from prying eyes. A few moments later, an ear-piercing scream erupted from the mouth of the alley. But no one heard and no one came to the aid of an innocent child in parole.


	8. Chapter 8 O Mother My Mother

**Chapter 7**

 **Oh Mother; My Mother**

 **Outside the rear entrance at Club Neutrino**

Ginger cried out in pain as the back of Ricco's hand struck her pale cheek spattering a thick rusty red pattern on the ground in front of the back door. The Jackson Pollack image made the crowd shriek and back away. Ricco's goons stood at the entrance of the alley cackling like oversized hyenas unaware of the rage growing in the darkness 20 feet behind them.

"I'm sorry, Ricco." Ginger cried out, holding her throbbing cheek as thin line of sticky blood trickled down her chin. She stumbled back through the brackish gutter, slammed against the damp brick wall beside the rear door and winced in pain. Ginger was in trouble; no one could see her from the street and she was certain no one would come to her aide, not even the police.

Ricco stepped over the gutter, seized her by the already bruised throat and pinned her against the wall. He stared into her wild eyes, well aware, the terrified onlookers would remember the next few moments for as long as they lived. In fact, Ricco counted on it.

"Listen, money britches," he began in a tone that only served to increase the already palpable sense of fear running between the girls. "I'm pretty sure one of us is going to enjoy this a great deal." He looked over his shoulder at the mortified onlookers. "And the other, not so much."

She struggled to speak, but Ricco squeezed her windpipe hard enough to make her face light up like a crimson balloon. He smiled, flashing his perfect white teeth and said, "You know, I can see your lips moving, but I can't hear the words coming out of your mouth."

Ginger sobbed helplessly as he spun her around slamming her face first against the wall. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her trembling body as pain stole the strength from her limbs. Ricco caught her by the back of her flimsy dress ripping it up the middle and hauling her upright again.

The hair on Riddick's arm bristled as an intense rush of searing heat coursed through his broad chest and raced outward along his thick extremities like magma flooding through his veins. Martin made to step around him, but Riddick held out his arm blocking his path and said, "I've got this."

"Hey, she's my mom."

"I said, I've got this."

Martin noticed the neon lights coursing beneath the skin on the back of Riddick's hand like electric eels swimming beneath a thin layer of frosted ice and paused to marvel at the unexpected show. "Oh, excuse me." He gestured towards the group with a grin that made Riddick pause to wonder. "Have it your way, feel free to play the avenging hero."

A brief moment passed as the two men sized each other up. Riddick stepped in close, reached inside Martin's left upper cargo pocket and said, "I'm no hero."

Martin stared in his mirrored eyes with an all knowing smirk and countered, "So you keep saying. But everywhere you go, you seem to keep saving people."

"This isn't about saving anyone. It's about crime and punishment." Riddick slid a long black flashlight out of Martin's pocket, gritted his teeth at the scene unfolding by the door and asked, "You don't mind if I borrow this, do you?" He inspected the standard issue light and added, "I see you're still carrying this."

"Of course," Martin nodded politely. "It's the only thing I have left of better days."

Riddick grimaced and turned towards the crowd. "It's not good to hold on to the past."

"And what of old friends, can we hold on to them?"

"Time will tell," Riddick replied, flipping the light in the air and catching as though it were a club. "Either way, you won't want this back when I'm done with it."

Martin laughed to himself. "Don't worry. I've wiped plenty of blood off that before."

"Blood," Riddick replied, staring at the makeshift weapon in his hand. "Who said anything about blood."

Ginger screamed out in pain again and Riddick's pupils lit up like a dozen roman candles ignited somewhere behind his eye sockets. He stepped from the cover of shadow, advancing on the two oblivious body guards in the near distance raising the flashlight high over head.

"Bitch, you cost me a lot of money." Ricco said, staring over his shoulder at the frozen women.

Ricco's sullen gaze pierced the bug-eyed group, now frozen in place like marble statues placed on display in a museum. After releasing them from his gaze, Ricco pressed Ginger against the building as if trying to use her head to create a new opening for another door.

"But more than that," Ricco seethed, "You disrespected me in front of the other girls." He saw the fear growing in the crowd, felt it in Ginger's trembling flesh and reveled in the knowledge they were all under his control; or so, he believed.

The new girl stared at Ricco in rage; her face blazing like the setting sun. She hurled her sequined purse through the most air striking him in the back. "Leave her alone you filthy pig."

Ricco turned to her with an eerily calm smile, grabbed the two halves of Gingers already torn dress and ripped it apart revealing the skimpy bra and panty beneath. His fake smile turned into a deliberate sneer as he leaned in towards Ginger. "And there it fucking is… If one of you bitches gets away with something, suddenly they all think they can too." He paused just long enough to run a pampered nail from the middle of Ginger's back, down her long spine and beneath the top edge of her panty. He dragged the fabric down exposing her bare bottom. "I was going to kill you. But now, I suppose I'm going to have to make an example out of your pretty ass, instead."

Ginger sobbed as Ricco caressed her exposed backside. "Please don't," she pleaded.

But it was no good. Ricco had the upper hand and would never show mercy; mercy was for the helpless. "You'll soon learn there are things worse than death." he said, holding her against the wall with one hand while unzipping his trousers with the other. The sound of the zipper opening made Ginger struggle to get away. But Ricco was strong; Ginger only ended up in a more embarrassing and precarious position. He turned his head slightly to the side, so the 2 men behind him could hear. "You can have what's left after I'm finished teaching this model parent a lesson in backend economics?"

"Is that what you're doing?" an unfamiliar voice asked from 10 feet behind him.

Ricco spun around with his manhood in his hand, looking from Riddick to the 2 unconscious guards lying in an ever joining pool of blood. In one fluid motion, Ricco swung Ginger off the wall and around in front of him as if she was a human shield. "Who the fuck are you, asshole?"

Riddick ignored Ricco's less than courageous attempt to gain information in favor of returning an insult. "Don't worry Ginger, it's not likely he could hurt much with that little thing."

Ricco jammed his hand deep inside an inner jacket pocket and lost his grip on Ginger. She seized the opportunity to get away. But Ricco slapped Ginger behind the ear with the side of the revolver, yanked her back in front of him and pointed his weapon at Riddick's face.

"Fuck you?" he shouted, thrusting his revolver at Riddick as if it were a knife.

Riddick rolled his eyes knowing it would piss Ricco off, knowing an angry advisory made a careless foe. So, Riddick grinned and said, "If that's an offer, short stuff. I should tell you, I have much higher standards."

The girls laughed and Ricco screamed, "Fucking bitches, you're next!" He drew the hammer back, pushed it towards Riddick. "Just fucking tell me your name so I can end you."

Martin stepped out of the shadows, Company Ranger armor taking shape as his walked around the two downed men. Ricco saw his approach, stuffed his weapon beneath Ginger's chin and shouted, "Hold it right there!"

Martin stopped beside Riddick with his hand wrapped around the grip of his sidearm. "Oh friend, this is Richard B. Riddick, friend of stray puppies, lost hookers and one badass Necro killing mother..."

"Nobody kills Necros, Ranger boy." Ricco interrupted.

Riddick took a step closer, carefully positioning himself directly in front of Ricco. "You like hurting defenseless women, don't you, pee wee?" His eyes erupted in an ultraviolet light that spread across his face before it sank beneath the skin illuminating his skull as it vanished. "But that's not what really pisses me off. No. What pisses me off, acorn, is little men with big guns. It's like they're trying to compensate for something."

Martin flashed a wide-eyed look at Riddick and said, "Well… in his defense... it really is quite chilly out here."

The girls laughed.

"Fuck you, ranger boy"

"Again." Riddick said, "Not anyone's type. Now, let her go before someone really does gets hurt."

"If this all it takes to piss you off." Ricco said, keeping himself well hidden behind Ginger. "Then, you're gonna lose your shit when you see what I do next."

Martin turned to Riddick with a smirk. "If I get a say in what pee wee dies next, I think he should zip his pants."

Riddick raised the flashlight over his shoulder, business end pointed towards Ricco's face with the hilt over his shoulder. "Let her go, right now, or spend the rest of your days wishing you had."

"Why," Ricco replied, squeezing Ginger until she cried out in pain. He swung his gun around pointing it at the crowd of hookers. "From where I'm standing it looks like I have all the control. So, beat it before I start dropping bitches in the street."

Riddick could see the salty fear pouring down Ricco's forehead and knew the time was right. "Last chance, tiny. Release Ginger right now or I'll let these pretty ladies ruin your ass."

Ricco frowned at him, aimed at the girl who had hit him with her purse. "Remember hero, what happens next is your fault."

"I will," Riddick replied, watching Ricco swing gun from one woman to the next. "Hey!" Riddick called out, catching Ricco off guard and flicking the switch on the flashlight. The intense light struck Ricco's retinas causing his eyelids to slam shut for a split second as something heavy sailed through the night air like a spinning dagger. The blunt end of the flashlight struck Ricco in the bridge of the nose and the dull thud of crushing bone mixed with the sound of breaking cartalige made the girls wince.

The sudden emergence of swirling stars gave way to the inevitability of darkness as Ricco crumpled at Ginger's feet.

The open mouthed shook on Ginger's face swiftly gave way to a clinched jawed need for vengeance as she kicked Ricco in the stomach with every bit of hatred she could muster. Before passing out, Ricco puked all over his expensive suit as tbe girls cheered her onward.

Riddick pulled Ginger away arms and legs flailing in rage, expletives flying like hot bullets and dropped her down teetering on her stilettos. "Get out of my way!" Ginger shrieked.

"Hold it," Riddick said, preventing her from kicking Ricco again. "You need to slow down and saver the small victories."

"You have a better idea." she replied, still trying to get around him to kick Ricco in the face.

He held at arms length, peering over her shoulder at the body lying on the street as a sadistic smirk spread across his face. "As a matter of fact, I may have a slightly more fitting punishment in mind."

"Show me." Ginger demanded, stepping back to give him room to work.

Riddick used the broken carry handle of the angry hooker's purse to bind Ricco's hands together in front of him, after which, he hung Ricco over the light fixture beside the rear entrance like a prize pig waiting for slaughter. Riddick motioned for the familiar looking blonde to pick up the flashlight and bring it to him. When she did, he motioned for the rest of group to come closer and stand in a semicircle around their helpless pimp.

"Wakey, wakey," A deep voice called out piercing the vale of darkness shrouding Ricco's pounding mind.

When Ricco's eyes finally flickered open, he found himself in the exact same position Ginger was in earlier. Ricco kicked frantically as the girls laughed. "Doesn't feel very nice, does it?" Ginger said fighting the urge to impale Ricco with the heel of her stiletto.

"I suppose this is where you let your new girlfriends beat me with your little flashlight?"

Riddick handed Ginger the flashlight, walked over behind Ricco, grabbed the belt loops on his trousers and tore his pants and underwear to the ground. The group of shocked prostitutes stood behind their bare assed pimp in disbelief. Riddick stared around the circle making certain to meet every woman's gaze and said, "what I said, was I would let these pretty ladies ruin your ass."

In an instant, Martin's mouth fell open as he turned three shades of green. Martin wanted to walk away but he stood his ground watching what came next.

Riddick placed his mouth close to Ricco's ear and whispered, "And one more thing before I leave you to your lesson in backend economics. That flashlight, isn't that little. But you'll figure that out for yourself in a few minutes."

Ricco tried to kick Riddick but he stepped back wearing a terrible look of vengeful satisfaction.

"I'LL GET YOU RIDDICK!" Ricco screamed, as the girls converged on him like a pack of feral animals going after a defenseless kill.

"Not likely," Riddick said to himself, walking off towards the zone.

"Death by flashlight," Martin said, staring over his shoulder at tbe savage assault as they walked away. "What a way to go."

"I doubt they'll kill him," Riddick replied, frowning at Martin. "At least, I hope he's not that lucky. Fucker deserves to suffer."

"Brother, I knew you had a fuckin' dark side, but that's some evil shit, even for you."

"What– you think Ricco's punishment doesn't befit the crime? I over reacted?" Riddick waited for Martin to respond. But when he didn't, Riddick added, "Did you see the bruises on their necks– on their arms?" Riddick turned to Martin and said the one thing he knew would get a reaction, "Did you like the way Ricco was treating your mom?"

"Fuck you!" Martin said, poking Riddick in the chest with a giant finger. "Since when are you judge, jury and executioner?"

"Since the Universe decided to not leave me alone."

Martin looked like he wanted to throttle Riddick, he gestured at the unfolding scene and said, "This isn't about a bunch of hookers beating a pimp to death."

"Then, what's it about?"

"You yanked his fucking pants down and left him hanging there like a piece of meat." Martin replied, wearing an expression that signaled he didn't recognize the man in front of him. "That's not punishment; That's torture."

"And your point?" Riddick asked waiting for a reply he knew would never come. "Just how many times has Ricco done the same thing to one of the others? Treated them like meat just to put a few credits in his pockets or to make himself feel strong." Riddick waited for Martin to chime in again, but still, Martin remained silent as Ricco's screams filled the night air. "If it makes you feel any better about what's happening, then look at it this way. All I did was take his power and gave it to them. Its not my fault Ricco was such a good teacher." Riddick reached out, squeezed Martin's shoulder and added. "Hey brother, it's a win-win. They get their revenge and Ricco doesn't even have to pay for all the good lovin'."

Martin turned to him, mouth open in disbelief, "Exactly what the hell happened to you when the Necros left you for dead?"

"Beats me." he answered, "All I know is nothings been the same since I escaped 'Not Furya.'" Riddick held out a hand for Martin to inspect. "The darkness is coming out now whenever it wants." Riddick looked from Martin to the women realizing what he had done. "I can't control it anymore. It wants to make them pay."

"What wants who to pay?" Martin replied.

"It's more like a need. A hunger to punish." Riddick said, gesturing for Martin to touch the back of his hand.

Martin reached out uneasily, touched Riddick's hand and felt something slither beneath the skin. He yanked his hand away and Riddick saw the look of disbelief in Martin's eyes. "Something's happening inside– it feels like maggots crawling through my veins trying to chew their way out."

"I knew it was bad. But this– I never would have believed this."

"No one is safe around me."

Martin laughed to himself and said, "Well then. Thanks for contacting me."

Riddick shrugged his broad shoulders. "No other options."

Martin nodded that he understood. "On a positive note. I did find the answers you asked me too."

"Hold up," a voice called out from behind them. Ginger walked up wearing a smile, shoved something in Riddick's hand and said, "No one's ever done anything like that for me before. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Riddick replied, staring at her face as if he was studying every line. "I noticed you have an accent," Riddick added, trying to learn more about where Ginger came from. "Its English, isn't it?"

"Close. But no."

Martin stared at Ginger in disbelief and said, "Its Aussie, isn't it? I just remembered my mom had an Aussie accent.

"Good for her." Ginger said, wearing an expression that said big deal.

"You sound just like her."

"Ahh… Thanks, I guess," Ginger said, looking back at him with an peculiar expression.

"You don't meet a lot of people from Earth?" Riddick said, matter-of-factly.

Ginger shook her head at him as if she didn't understand his meaning. "I've never been to Earth. I grew up out in the zone."

"The zone," Martin thought out loud, "Then how'd you get the Aussie accent?"

"No idea. The earliest memories I have are as a 10 years old girl." Ginger said, shrugging it off as if it were normal. "I guess I must have been raised by an Aussie."

Martin turned ash grey, he thought it couldn't be a coincidence. "You have no memory of your childhood?"

"It's no big deal. I'm used to it."

He stepped closer to her staring at every pore on her face as she backed into Riddick. "I didn't have any memories of my childhood either." he explained, "That is until today, when I came here."

She placed a finger on the front of his armor and pushed him backwards an arms length. "Good for you."

"As memory serves, she was almost exactly your age the last time I saw her." Martin said, wanting to step closer. "In fact, you could be her twin."

Ginger stepped in closer, ran her fingers over the front of his armor and said, "Listen honey, I don't know what kind of mommy issues you have. But I don't do those kind of role play games. They're creepy and sick." Martin made to say something but Ginger pressed a long thin finger over his lips preventing him from speaking. "Not for any amount of money. OK, pumpkin. Besides, aren't you a little old for that kind of thing?"

When Ginger finally removed her finger, Martin gestured to Riddick, who was suppressing the urge to laugh and added, "My funny friend over here knew someone with an Aussie accent too, didn't you?"

"Well, it appears you gents get around," Ginger replied, stepping around Martin and walking away. After a few feet, she turned back to Riddick, pointed at his hand with a smile and mouthed the words call me. Riddick looked at the piece of paper in his hand and smiled.

"Really, Shazza Montgomery gave you her number?" he protested. "And could some one please tell me, when the fuck I got old?"

Riddick watched her walking away shaking her backside with a grin. "God, I hope she's Shazza Montgomery. Because I'd hate to be thinking these things about your mom."

"Oh... fucking gross."

Riddick laughed at Martin and said, "She's not your mom."

Martin turned towards Ginger and immediately found himself mesmerized by the way she moved. Riddick noticed Martin staring a bit to longingly and said, "Well, I suppose she could be your mom."

Martin's mouth feel open and he reeled around heading off in the direction of the zone. "Oh my God, I'm scarred for life. Thanks a lot, buddy. I'll never get that out of my head now."

Riddick laughed and said, "She's not your mom. Or Shazza Montgomery. She's just a..."

"I know– just a hooker."

A large dog burst through a hole in the perimeter zone fence fifty yards away and ran down the street starling Martin. He drew his side arm and scanned the area. After a tense moment, Martin put his weapon away. "We should get off the street. It's not safe out here."

"Come on," Riddick replied, gesturing down the lonely street at the old chain-link fence. "I have a place where we can go." Riddick walked over to the hole in the fence and crawled through leaving Martin to decide if he would follow him into the darkness beyond.


	9. Chapter 9 Furry Flanking Friends

**Chapter 8**

 **Furry Flanking Friends**

 **Not Furya / Down on the planet surface / 4 hours after the E.S.S. Regert entered high orbit**

A bank of swirling sandstorms blew across the arid planes of Not Furya erasing all traces of the dangers buried just a few feet beneath the surface. The rains had ceased, the water had receded and the mud demons had gone to ground leaving the surface above to the control of the packs.

"Willingham," Deckard shouted through his head set. "Watch your right flank. There's a small pack trying to use the terrain to get through the perimeter fence."

"Affirmative," Willingham replied, peering through his scope at 4 large dogs trying to jump over a steep outcropping of rocks. He fired a shot at the upper edge of the stone ledge sending a hail storm of falling rubble on their heads. "It's taken care of." Willingham said, watching the dogs run out about 500 hundred yards and join a much larger pack that that massed at the top of a nearby knoll.

"Does anyone get the feeling these mutts are playing us?" a frightened voice said over the coms.

"You mean– are they smart?" Willingham replied, staring at the pack with a foreboding look.

"Shit," yet another frightened voice spoke up. "Is that what they're doing? Just sitting out there watching us, formulating a strategy to get through our defenses."

"Hey ski," the worried voice came over the coms, "Do you get the feeling these things are testing the perimeter?"

The airwaves went quiet. "Looks like."

"They're not, you jackasses," Willingham said. "They're just hungry dogs and we look like food." Willingham watched a lone dog run off around the right flank and then saw another dog run back in.

"If that's true," the voice said, "How do they know what our weapon's range is?"

"Just shut up, Butarski. And make sure nothing gets through the left side perimeter." Willingham said.

"Willingham," another voice sounded off. "There's a large pack of dogs about 500 meters out in front of my position, as well."

"Me too," a fourth man said.

Willingham watched another dog run off, only this one ran around the left flank. A moment later a different dog ran in from the left and he asked, "Has anyone seen any dogs running around the flanks?"

Butarski was on Willingham's left watching the pack out front of him. "Every fifteen minutes or so, two dogs run the flanks, one down the right side; the other goes to the left. Then, two other dogs run back in a few seconds later."

"Are they coordinating an attack strategy?" one of the other men blurted.

"It would seem so." Willingham replied.

"So…" Butarski said, "I was right, after all."

"No." Willingham replied, "They're just dogs. But it appears something or someone is coordinating their movements."

Deckard was standing behind Willingham watching the pack and listening to the conversation on his headset. "Martell, I need you to take two men and distribute the heavy rifles, frag grenades and use the drones to deploy a quick minefield 150 meter outside the perimeter."

"Commander Deckard!" Regina called out from about 150 yards behind him. When Deckard turned to see what Regina wanted, she waved for him to come over. "We're almost ready to enter the chamber."

"Sergeant Willingham," Deckard called over the coms, "After Martell completes his assignment, have him and the others, spread out around the perimeter." He turned to join Regina and called back, "And shoot anything, or anyone, that comes closer than 150 meters."

"Yes sir."

Deckard waved at the dropship parked beside the chamber and the man in the pilot's seat waved back. "Lieutenant Rumson, I want the dropship positioned in front of the chamber's main entrance, tailgate down and ready for emergency evac."

"Understood."

"Have Crewman Anderson stand guard on the tailgate. And Rumson, tell him to stay frosty. I've got a bad feeling."

The dropship lifted into the air kicking up a dust cloud covering the chamber. The ship spun around, flew over the top of the chamber and touched back down facing away from the chamber entrance. Regina and her team uncovered their eyes and dusted themselves off as the tailgate hydraulics wined loudly. A stout olive skinned young man came into view as the aft ramp lowered slowly to the ground.

"You could have warned us!" Regina said, wiping the dust and debris off her clothing.

"Sorry mam," Anderson said, walking down the ramp. "Just following orders."

"Orders…" she replied, glaring at Deckard as he approached fighting the urge to smile. "I'll be washing sand out of my hair for the next week."

Deckard ignored her angry tone. "Dr. Chillingsworth, the time table has been accelerated. We need to leave in no more than 4 hours."

"By whom? Why?" Regina asked. "I need time to perform the necessary tests to understand how this artifact works. Or even if its safe to move."

"By our furry friends out there." Deckard explained, pointing his rifle at the perimeter. "When we arrived there were only a few stray dogs running around out there. And now, 2 hours later, there are 150 dogs and more are arriving every minute."

"So…" Regina replied, waving her hand loftily in the perimeter. "They're dogs, just shoot them if they get to close."

Deckard grabbed her arm and warned, "They're the size of small horses Regina. And at this rate, there will be a thousand of them out there in 4 hours."

"Be that as it may," she replied. "I need time."

"You have four hours, maybe less if our hosts see fit to crash the party sooner. Either way, make it happen."

A loud explosion sounded outside the southern flank. Everyone turned towards the cloud of smoke rising up over the back of the chamber. The dogs had begun rushing the perimeter fence and one of them had triggered a proximity mine. A split second later, weapons fire erupted all around them as a dozen men fought back a well coordinated attack of snarling teeth.

"Get your team on the ship and don't get out again until the perimeter is secure!" Deckard yelled over the din of weapons fire and barking dogs. "Anderson, secure the tailgate and don't open it again until I tell you it's clear."

"Yes Sergeant!"

Deckard ran to the perimeter beside Willingham, snatched up a heavy rifle and fired into the pack trying to break the onslaught. He screamed into his mic, "If you've got grenades, throw them."

The entire perimeter went up in a cloud of smoking soil and fleshy blood, and the remaining dogs ran back to their original positions.

"They retreating." Willingham said, as the sound of gunfire subsided. "Everyone inspect your weapons and restock your ammo."

"They didn't leave," Butarski blurted. "The damn things are still out."

"Cut the shit and pull yourself together." Deckard said, patting Willingham on the shoulder letting him know he did a good job. "They'll be back as soon as their numbers increase."

Willingham looked up covering his mic and asked, "What now?"

"Team. Listen up." Deckard called over the coms. "I want the exploded ordinance in the minefield replaced asap, fortify the perimeter fence and make sure everybody's ready for the next wave."

"Done." Willingham sounded off.

"Anderson, drop the tailgate and tell our guests they can continue their research." Deckard said, approaching the chamber entrance.

"Yes, master sergeant."

"See," Deckard said, returning to Regina as she came down the ramp. "We don't have much time. So– if you want to figure this shit out. Do it now. Because in a few hours we'll be overrun by a legion of dogs."

Regina scowled at Deckard, shoved her way past the two synthetics blocking the entrance and disappeared inside. Regina's two assistants followed her inside without hesitation. Deckard stopped outside the entrance stymied by the stench of decomposition slamming into his nostrils. Something inside was dead.

Regina was kneeling down by a pit at the center of the chamber studying something inside. "Geoffrey, go get the equipment. I need to collect a sample."

"God," Deckard said, holding a hand over his nose and mouth. "What is that smell?"

"It appears to be all that is left of your one time mentor." She answered, motioning for him to come closer.

Deckard peered wide-eyed down at the blood soaked goo lining the hole holding his mouth as if the stench would make him wretch. "Is that him?"

"I don't believe so." She replied, taking a sample from the pit. "But I'll need to run a few tests to be certain."


	10. Chapter 10 The Problem With Orders

**Chapter 9**

 **The Problem With Orders**

 **Deep inside the quarantine zone / Hours before it hits the fan**

Riddick shoved a broad shoulder against the rusty metal door leading into the old Mega Corp repair bay, it screeched in protest as the rusty hinges grated against one another. Martin stood out in the rain pondering his next move his next move as the open doorway beaconed him forward.

Martin turned around, scanned the dark streets for signs of prying eyes and saw the glare of the gaudy financial district looming on the horizon. They were deep in the zone. "There's no going back now," he said to himself, peering across the threshold into the dark cavity on the other side.

"Are you coming in?" Riddick called out, flicking on a small flashlight. "Or are you going to stand out in the rain all night?"

"I didn't think you needed that anymore?" Martin said through the open doorway.

"I don't," Riddick answered. He came back to the open door and tossed Martin the lipstick sized flashlight. "The light's for you." And with that Riddick vanished again. Martin stood in the open doorway listening to the sound of Riddick's fading voice. "Get out of the rain little ranger. I don't have time to go get your meds."

" Funny guy."

"Unless, you're waiting for back up."

"I told you, I came alone." Martin stressed, stepping across the threshold and closing the door behind him.

"And I have trust issues."

"With me?"

"Them."

Martin searched Riddick's face trying to find the man he'd known long ago. "Good. Then, not everything has changed yet."

"Not everything."

Martin held out Riddick's flashlight and said, "If you had your own flashlight, you should have given yours away."

Riddick pointed at the smaller flashlight with a grin and replied, "Sometime size matters."

"Oh… ha-ha."

"I meant… that flashlight isn't big enough to disarm an opponent."

"I'm sure that's what you meant." Martin replied, feigning a look of appall. "Why carry a flashlight anyhow?"

"Diversion." Riddick said. "Switch it on, toss it away and when they go for the light, I go for them."

"I'll have to remember that."

"There's more than one way to use the darkness against an enemy."

The smell of old machine oil and musty air filled Martin's nostrils giving way to the realization the room hadn't been used in decades. A sign glued to the inside of the door read, 'Mega Corp. Maint. Bay 6'.

The large maintenance shop was a reminder of times when Mega Corp had spread its influence across the universe in search of profit. But that was when mankind was new to space, now the room was just a forgotten reminder of the unchecked evils of corporate expansionism and greed.

Four oversized vertical gurders span the 20 foot high room. Time had turned the once pristine steel into a blotchy dark maroon. An enormous 100 ton transom ran between the huge I-beams connecting the gurders together and a large pump hung beneath the cradle as if the mechanics working on it had fled the area in haste. Martin could see the lights of the city through the windows ringing the high walls; the glare was partially obscured by a thick layer of grimy dust built up by years of neglect.

Riddick motioned for him to go over to an old break area on a nearby wall where a wide couch sat beneath the long bank of high windows. As Martin made his way there, he watched Riddick swing a long wooden bar across the front of the door, tie a rope around a nail fixed to one end and make sure it was taught.

"Did you check the blade out?" Riddick asked staring at the blue tinge covering his skin.

"I did," Martin answered, taking a small tablet out of a cargo pocket on his right thigh. "But you're not going to like what the lab-techs learned."

"Big surprise," Riddick replied, walking to a makeshift bench on the opposite wall. He fired up a small whisper generator that sputtered and smoked to life. It stunk of old gas and burnt oil.

The overhead lights pulsed to life and an old beat up refrigerator knocked loudly as if chasing the shadows away. Riddick sorted through a pile of greasy old hand tools tossing tools aside one by one, until came across the straight edge screwdriver he wanted. He adjusted a screw on the generator's carburetor and the generator's grumpy protests quieted, and the lights stopped pulsing.

"You're stalling," Martin said, gesturing to his watch. "We don't have time to play mechanic."

"Funny you say that." Riddick replied, his deep voice echoing off the back wall. "That's exactly what I wanted to discuss. Time."

"Lost a little, have you?" Martin asked, already knowing the answer.

"About a year."

"I may have an idea," Martin replied, tapping the tablet as if it held the answers.

"I'd hoped you would."

Riddick went to the refrigerator in the back, removed two dark bottles and held them up for inspection. "Here," Riddick said, handing Martin a bottle as he sat down on the couch. "Have a beer."

Martin stared at the peeling label on the icy beer bottle. "Do you really think this is a good time to sit around drinking? I thought we were here to discuss Not Furya?"

"We are," he replied, clinking his bottle off Martin's as if giving a toast. "But not until a few last minute guests arrive. You know how I hate playing catch up." Riddick lifted a boot up onto a ratty old ottoman nearby and took a sip. "Mmm... Good stuff. You don't know what you're missing."

"What guests?"

"Not really sure." Riddick said, gesturing between the door, the skylight in the roof and the windows overhead.

"How many?"

"I'm thinking somewhere around 6." he pointed at something hanging above the door they entered through. "I hope for their sakes it's not more than that."

"And when are these guests supposed to arrive?"

"If I'm right, they'll be here any second."

Martin sat the beer down on the end table next to the couch, right eyebrow furrowing as a vale of anger crossed his face. "I already told you… I came alone."

"And I already told you. I believe you. But you're not the only one who knows we're here." He explained, taking another sip. "You know the company. Those bastards never let an opportunity pass."

"Dammit!" Martin shouted. "You know no one followed us; I saw you watching for tails the whole way here."

Riddick nodded his head. "True. But I also know someone was watching us from the rooftops." He turned to him with a dark expression suggesting he might be part of some hidden agenda. "Or did you think I'd forgotten?"

"We don't have time for this paranoia crap." Martin countered, checking his watch again.

"Make time."

"We need to talk now," Martin stressed. "You're in far more danger than you know."

"I'm always in danger. That's why this paranoia crap is one of my go to moves." Riddick gestured at the empty flashlight pouch on Martin's armor. "And why I also know your flashlight was 20 grams heavier than it should have been."

Martin's mouth dropped. "Shit. One of those little bastards bugged me?"

"That's my thought."

Martin turned to the entrance, hand on his sidearm concentrating on the knob. "That's why you gave the hookers the flashlight. To throw them off our scent."

"More like, slow them down just long enough to get here and set–"

Before Riddick finished his sentence, the door burst open, the wooden bar broke free and the thick rope pulled the bar out of sight. A large cage concealed high in the rafters crashed to the floor with a terrible noise and Martin's jaw dropped.

"What the hell!" he yelled, face turned beet red as he tore the sidearm from his holster. A small contingent of heavily armed soldiers flailed in a heap of rubber limbs beneath the heavy cage.

"As I was saying?" Riddick teased, not bothered by the commotion in the least. Riddick laughed at the men jumping up, raised a beer high in the air and gave a toast, "To my fellow Rangers. You remain as predictable as ever."

"Stand down!" Martin screamed, half in anger and half in utter disbelief. He sprinted the distance, grabbed the bars and shook the cage like a mad man. "I ordered you idiots to wait in the transport."

Pfc. Zims stared over his sights at Riddick, refusing to lower his weapon. "We were given express orders to follow and secure the target no matter what you ordered."

"Who's secured now?"

"I had orders."

"Holy shit, buddy," Riddick said cutting Martin off with a bout of hysterical laughter. "Who'd you piss off to get stuck with these snot-nosed cherries."

"Screw you," one the soldiers said, starring at Riddick over his sights.

Riddick put his beer down, took a yellow control box off the side table and pointed it at the cage. "Dear Mr. And Mrs. So-n-so. The company is sad to inform you. Your sons were killed in the line of duty, because they were stupid."

Riddick leaned over towards Martin with a smirk and whispered in a volume he was certain the men would hear, "You know I could have ended them a dozen times before they got off the floor."

"No shit," Martin replied, turning to his team. "I should throw your dumbasses out an airlock."

Riddick chuckled; he thought it was hilarious. "I'd probably take team supersoldier more seriously if they weren't covered in pimples."

"I don't have pimples!" one of the soldiers protested.

Riddick laughed at the man and added, "And from the sound of their voices I'd say they haven't had their injections yet. Or maybe it's just their balls haven't dropped."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you." Martin replied, pointing sidearm at them as they dodged out of the way.

"What, they're balls haven't dropped?"

"Screw you."

"No." Martin replied, fighting back a grin. "These no-talents aren't my team. Martin pointed at the men and said, "Motorpool, motorpool, headquarters, maintenance, logistics and… intelligence."

Riddick laughed and said, "That explains a lot."

One of the men peering over his sights muttered something beneath his breath and flashed Martin a dirty look.

"My team was reassigned shortly after the lab-techs ran their initial tests on the blade you sent me." Martin said. The look on his face illuminated the anger Martin felt about not having any choice in losing his team. "They were sent to secure a high value site."

"The obelisk on Not Furya."

"You got it." Martin nodded, holding up the data pad as if eagerly waiting to discuss its contents.

Riddick gestured at the men trapped beneath the heavy cage and said, "Gentlemen, lets call a truce for the time being and we'll agree you get to serve the company one more day."

Zims lowered his weapon and said, "For now."

Riddick stood up and said, "Kid, I'm the last person in the Universe you want to come at head on." He pointed to the left side of his rifle and added, "Especially, if you don't know where your safety is."

Zims flipped the selector to fire. "Don't think that just because I was given orders not to kill you–"

"Put the safety on Zims before you shoot your pecker off." Martin interrupted.

Riddick laughed at his adversary; he always laughed at them. "Thanks, little duffer. But I doubt you could kill a cold beer."

"Twenty mikes max." Riddick said, to Martin with a coy grin.

Martin shook his head and replied, "Nope. Thirty mikes or more."

"OK, lets go for a hundred."

"Your loss."

"Keep tellin' yourself that." Riddick said, gesturing for Martin to come back to the couch. "What did they learn."

"What about them?"

Riddick stared at the darkness above the cage and said, "Let's them stew for a while."

"Nice going Andre," one of the other men snapped.

"Fuck you, Donny."

"Shut up, assholes," Martin said, throwing his beer bottle against the bars. "And get that gear off before I shoot you myself."


	11. Chapter 11 Triple Helix

**Chapter 10**

 **Triple Helix**

 **Not Furya / 6 tests complete / 600 dogs strong and more arriving by the minute**

The pack leader was a quarter ton monster. It towered over its lesser brothers and sisters as it strolled through the pack howling like a banshee.

"I wish that damn thing would cut the shit." Butarski said, gripping his weapon with white knuckles every time it howled.

"Hey ski," a frightened voice came over the coms. "Have you got any grenades left?"

"A few," he replied, searching a large green pouch and only finding two.

"How many?"

"Not enough."

"Cut the chatter and keep your eyes on the perimeter." Willingham said, following the giant pack leader with his scope. "These bastards will be back."

"Can you get a shot off?" Deckard asked, standing behind Willingham looking through a pair of long-range binoculars.

Willingham could see the large dog strolling through the back of the pack. "No chance," he replied, finger tickling tbe trigger as the dog looked straight down his scope. "The goddamn thing is staying just out of weapons range." Willingham leaned his rifle against the side of the fox hole, took out a pack of Cool 100s, lit a cigarette and took a long drag filling his lungs to capacity. "It's like the goddamn thing knows I'm watching." He said, exhaling the words along with the smoke in his lungs; "It knows like it knows I'm waiting for a chance to get off a shot."

"Doctor Chillingsworth only needs a few more hours. Then we can load the artifact on the dropship and get the hell out of here."

Willingham snubbed his cigarette out, picked up his rifle and peered into the pack, searching for the giant dog. "I'd consider it a personal favor if you get her to move her ass a little faster."

"Hey," Deckard replied, staring at the mass of angry dogs. "Didn't Federchuck say he was part Cherokee Indian. Do you think we could get him to do a rain dance?"

"Why," Willingham asked, finding the large dog in his scope. "Lookin' to get one monster to chase away the other?"

"I'm just looking for a way to survive the next few hours. I don't care how we do it; monsters, miracles or mayhem, it makes no difference to me."

"Raymond," Regina called out over the coms. "I need you to come aboard the dropship A.S.A.P. I found something you're going to want to see."

"I'll be right there, Regina."

"Maybe it's good news." Willingham said, looking up from his hole in the dirt.

Deckard offered him a halfhearted smile. "We could use some."

Regina set up a makeshift lab in the cargo area where she and her assistants had feverishly performed a myriad of test. The results of their experiments were displayed on a large monitor on the starboard hull. The gist of which was mostly beyond Deckard's understanding.

Deckard came up the ramp covered in a sweaty dirt that streaked his face. He wiped his forehead off with his sleeve and said, "Please, give me some good news."

"I have one test remaining and then we can leave." Regina answered.

"How long?"

"20 minutes at the most."

"Can you do it in the air?"

"No. It's time and stability sensitive."

"OK. What did you want to show me?"

Regina gestured for Deckard to follow her to the monitor. "Take a look. I've ascertained the residue in the pit wasn't the remains of your mentor; It's amniotic fluid."

"Amniotic fluid," Deckard said to himself with a puzzled expression. "Are you saying the pit's an… incubator?"

"In a way, yes," she replied. "The obelisk was created to force an evolutionary advance on a subatomic level." Regina scrolled through the test results and added, "Although, I won't be sure how it did so until we go back in and examine the chamber."

"I thought you said twenty minutes?"

"I need the time to inspect the chamber."

"Is there anything special about the amniotic fluid?" Deckard asked with a grimace. "Other than the smell."

Regina snapped her fingers at Geoffrey and he held up a sample vial containing some of the residue and explained, "This amniotic fluid contains 2 completely different DNA strands; each from the same host."

"I thought DNA was like a finger print?" Deckard asked.

"All DNA is unique." Regina replied, pulling up a side-by-side schematic. "In fact, both of these samples are quite unique. They just happen to come from the same man. She gestured to the monitor on the hull and explained, "The sequence on the right is a standard double helix, it's Riddick's original DNA; and the one on the left, is a never-before-seen triple helix, it too is Riddick's. Obviously, highly modified. But clearly Riddick's."

"How is that possible?"

"At our current level of DNA manipulation, it's not." Regain admitted, approaching the screen marveling at the spiraling DNA strands weaving around one another. "The time it would take to achieve such an undertaking would be measured in millennia."

"Your friends new DNA is the first of its kind." Geoffrey added, zooming in on the image of the triple helix. "And, it contains 8 never before seen nucleotides." He stood beside Regina marveling at the screen. "It would take our best computers decades to decode the new information."

Regina added, "It would appear your mentor went under the obelisk a man, but came out something… quite different."

"You like him."

"What he has become."

"What has he become?"

"No telling." Regina replied, teetering her head as if she didn't know the answer. "Your old comrade has evolved beyond the state of man."

"What's that mean?"

"Anything I tell you now will only be a guess." Regina replied, turning off the monitor. "I won't know more until I've had the necessary time to examine the obelisk under controlled conditions."

"How long will that take?"

"I have no idea."

"Then guess, Regina." Deckard's said. "It's important."

"Do I look like the mother of assumption, Raymond." Regina replied, frowning at him before he could continue. "I will tell you what I know, when I know it, and not until I know it."

"Dammit, woman." Deckard said, glaring at her. "Why does everything have to be such a struggle with you?"

"I don't know, Raymond. Why does the sun come up in the East?"

Deckard tilted his head to one side and scowled. "The sun comes up in the West on this planet, Regina."

"No matter, I still need time to complete the test and that gives you–" she paused long enough to gesture at a digital read out on the counter. "until that counter reaches 0, to secure the artifact." She left Deckard there staring at Geoffrey's grin as she walked down the ramp towards the chamber entrance. " I suggest, you hurry."

The dogs were running the perimeter in roving packs of ten to fifteen. Every so often, they would probe the perimeter forcing Willingham and the others to defend there positions. After the better part of 10 minutes, the perimeter was ringed with the bodies of hundreds of dead or dying animals, and Deckard's team was sitting in ankle deep circles of spent shell casings.

"Regina!" Deckard hollered, running around the perimeter distributing the last of the ammo to his team. "We're out of time."

"I need five more minutes and four men to help my assistants load the artifact."

Deckard stared at the lead dog, watching it inch closer all the while, waiting for the onslaught to begin. "There's a thousand dogs about to overrun our position and you want 4 men!"

"Now!"

"We're all coming!" Deckard shouted, hearing the lead dog howling wildly. "Everyone get inside the chamber." One of the men fell getting out if the foxhole and Deckard yelled, "Move your asses."

As seven men ran across the open space between the perimeter and the chamber the lead dog took off at a frightening pace. "Shit," Deckard blurted recognizing the assault was coming up behind them faster than anticipated. Deckard waved frantically at Lieutenant Rumson and called over the coms, "Get in the air." He took off towards the chamber as fast as his legs would run barking orders, "Rumson, as soon as everyone's inside, I want you to pin the ass of the ship against the chamber opening."

The ship lifted into the air as the perimeter went up in smoke and fire. Hundreds of dogs were killed in an instant, but the rest were through the minefield and bounding straight for the chamber. The largest dog was forcing his way through the pack like a derailed locomotive knocking everything out of the way as it went along.

Deckard was on the heels of the slowest man screaming in his ear to pick up the pace. But Butarski fell face first on the ground and Deckard vaulted over him realizing they would both be dead if he stopped to help him to his feet.

The largest dog seized Butarski mid-torso, lifted him high in the air as his bloody screams roared above the oncoming din. Butarski was dead. A victim of bad luck and poor footing. But his sacrifice had allowed the others to reach safety just before the dropship slammed its tail against the chamber opening.

"Willingham and Spence." Deckard said, gesturing towards the opening. "Make sure nothing gets through those gaps." He gestured for Anderson to get off the dropship, "And you, keep an eye on the openings in the roof."

Regina gestured for Corporal Federchuck to come help move the top half of the obelisk. When Federchuck pushed the top half of the obelisk onto a dolly, he convulsed from head to toe and cried out in pain. To everyone's horror Federchuck began dissolving into the stone. His teammates went to help, but Regina shouted, "Don't touch him!"

Geoffrey ran through the opening just in time to pull his oozing armor off the stone work.

"What the hell was that?" Deckard demanded, stepping away from the on coming puddle of smelly goo that no longer resembled Federchuck.

"It would appear the statue is activated by touch." Geoffrey replied, reaching out and touching the lower half of the stone.

"So, you touched it."

He held up his hand and said, "Human touch. Synthetic hands. No DNA." Geoffrey looked over the broken edge of the obelisk and then turned to Regina and said, "It appears there was some sort of control devise hidden inside." He pointed to a pulsing devise on the ground behind the two halves. "Its exposed now."

The chamber roof was covered with a mass of snarling dogs circling the openings feverishly jamming their snouts inside trying to reach the juicy morsels inside. The openings above the six pedestals surrounding the obelisk trickled streams of rusty red blood and chunks of fleshy fur.

"Raymond, we need to load the artifact and leave now!" Regina shouted.

"And how do you suggest we do that Regina? No one can touch the damn thing without melting."

Regina motioned for her two assistants to load the two halves onto the dropship and then return for the devise that was now lying on the floor.

"Everyone, get on the dropship now. We are leaving." Deckard ordered, pointing at the exit.

"Commander," Lieutenant Rumson said. "You'll all be sitting ducks as soon as I pull away."

Deckard looked around at the frightened faces and said, "Everyone strap in, this is gonna get ugly." Deckard ran to Regina and fastened her belt around her waist.

"Really, Raymond. I am quite capable." She said rolling her eyes as everyone snickered.

Deckard stuffed his sidearm in Regina's hand, kissed her full on the mouth and said, "For god sake, woman. Can't you just say thank you?"

"Thank you." Regina said, chambering a round.

Deckard strapped himself in the seat closest to the ramp, looked over his shoulder and said, "Someone with a full mag, give me your weapon."

"She's ready to rock n roll." Willingham said, tossing Deckard his rifle.

Deckard prepared himself, pointed the weapons at the door and said, "As soon as these sonsabitches show there ugly snouts, light''em up."

'Affirmative," everyone answered in unison, pointing whatever loaded weapon they could find at the door.

"Rumson, get us out of here." Deckard ordered, finger on the trigger.

As the ship pulled away the cracks between the cargo ramp and the chamber widened just enough to let a horde of snapping dogs through. Every weapon in the ship opened up simultaneously spraying a barrage of bullets into the ravenous maelstrom of gnashing teeth and slobber.

After a few seconds, the gunfire ceased and everyone breathed a sigh of relief; the dogs had been defeated. But as the ship rose higher, the lead dog came into view. It was eye to eye with Deckard, two foot taller than any other dog on the chamber roof and capable of easily leaping the distance from rock to ship.

Deckard's mouth dropped, his face went white and he turned to Regina and said, "Shit."

The weapons were empty, the grenades were gone and knives were of little use. Everyone knew they were finished.

The lead dog jumped, mouth wide for the kill. But Geoffrey tore his harness off, bolted towards the ramp at an unbelievable speed and leapt off the edge striking the dog in the mouth with the entire weight of his body. The dog bit down sending a spray of white synthetic blood splatter across the closing ramp as Geoffrey pounded it in the eyes. It shook him like a ragdoll and clawed at the edge of the slippery ramp trying to pull itself inside.

Deckard released his seat belt, ran to the tailgate and grabbed Geoffrey's slippery hands. But it was no good. He yanked backwards, lost his grip and feel on his back slipping in the sticky white blood. Willingham and Regina's other assistant grabbed Deckard in an effort to prevent him from falling to his death.

"Rumson!" Deckard screamed. "Stop the tailgate."

The dog hung from the edge of the tailgate, claws buried in the steel growling at the team. "Grab his hands." Deckard said, gesturing for Regina's assistant to grab Geoffrey's hands.

Willingham grabbed his rifle off the floor, ran to the edge of the ramp lifting it high in the air and yelled, "Pull!"

Both Deckard and the assistant heaved with all their strength as Willingham jammed the barrel into the dogs right eye socket. The dog howled in pain, rifle sticking from the bloody wound as Geoffrey landed on the floor. Willingham kicked the dog beneath the chin repeatedly until it finally lost its grip and fell to its doom. "Good riddance!" he yelled, peering down over the edge.

"Rumson," Deckard said, pulling himself off the floor. "Close the ramp and bring us home. We're done here."


	12. Chapter 12 Space Time

**Chapter 11**

 **Space Time**

 **The Quarantine Zone / Riddick's improvised safe house**

"Before I tell you what I know," Martin said, sitting on the other end of the couch with his tablet at the ready. "I'd like you to tell me when you first realized something was different."

"It was after escaping Not Furya." Riddick replied, thinking about the day Dahl and Johns saved him. "I was on Santana's ship, headed back to the Necro Armada to settle up with Krone and Vaako."

"What tipped you off?"

"I needed to plot a course back towards the armada and noticed a discrepancy in the star date; it was a year off."

Martin looked shocked and said, "I knew you were missing for a while, but a year?"

"Longer than that." Riddick corrected him. "If you add the year I can't account for with the time I can remember. I lost 18 months."

"Any idea where the time went?" Martin asked, already knowing the answer.

"After Krone dumped me off a cliff my leg was shattered, I had internal injuries and a pack of dogs were out for my blood."

"Sounds dire. But that's not why you lost the time."

"No." Riddick said, staring through the windows at the rain flowing down the glass like sulfur eels wriggling around his body.

"You know what happened."

Riddick sat on the couch replaying the fuzzy memory in his mind. "At the time, I thought it was just a hallucination."

"And now?"

"Sitting here 2 years later, I'm not sure of anything anymore. In the message I sent you, I told you about the obelisk, but I never told you how I found it."

"You never mentioned that."

"It was Vaako."

"Vaako; Siberious Vaako, the reigning Necromonger Lord Marshall."

"That's the guy." Riddick answered, nodding his head. "Vaako was standing on top of the chamber; he's the reason I made it to safety; the reason I found the chamber and took refuge under the obelisk. He's the reason we're talking today."

"You're saying you owe your life to the Necro who ordered your death?"

"That's what I'm saying."

Martin looked puzzled. "Did he say anything?"

Riddick shrugged his wide shoulders and answered, "Just get over here and get in there."

"That makes no sense." Martin thought out loud. "Why save you if he ordered Krone to kill you?"

"That's the thing." Riddick replied, looking through Martin at the man standing on the chamber. "I don't think it he did."

So… it wasn't Vaako?"

"Not the Vaako I know."

"Then who was it?"

"It's like what's happening here." Riddick replied, shaking his head.

"How so?"

"Ginger may look and sound like your mom, and Shazza Montgomery. But she's neither of them, or… maybe she's both." Riddick said in a tone signifying he was trying to convince himself more than actually explain it to Martin. "It was Vaako. But not the same Vaako."

"It's like Ginger playing 3 different roles; in 3 different places and at 3 different times. As if she's being recycled over and over."

"Seems like," Riddick replied, pointing out the window as if he were gesturing to Not Furya. "I'm certain the man I saw there, wasn't the man I knew aboard the Armada. The person I saw on Not Furya was no more Necro than you or I."

"It still doesn't add up," Martin said, scrunching his face into a puzzled expression. "if Vaako, or whoever he was, was trying to help you, why didn't he stick around to make sure you were OK?"

"Beats me?" Riddick replied "All I know is there was no one there when I reached the roof of the chamber. I thought it was in my head."

"And now?"

"I get the impression whoever he was, he wanted me to find that obelisk; to go in there."

"That may be the first good news I've heard all day."

"Why?"

"Because your would-be savior knew the obelisk would change you and most likely, who put it there."

Riddick thought about Ginger, he believed she had no idea what was happening than anyone else did. "These replicants have to be connected somehow." He said.

"I think that's a safe assumption." Martin said, nodding his head with a raised brow.

"Am I one of them?" Riddick asked, taking a drink. "Is that all I am, a copy?"

"You're no copy."

"How do you know?"

"Am I a copy?" Martin asked, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Of course not." Riddick answered as if the question was foolish.

"You know that feeling you have right now. The one that tells you I just asked you a stupid question. Because you'd know me anywhere? That's the same feeling I had when you said you're a copy." am who you think I am,"

"How else do I explain what happened on Not Furya."

"I admit something profound happened there. But you're no damn copy."

I thought I was so clever." Riddick said, holding out his arm to show the shimmering glow beneath the skin. "But now… I know it wasn't luck. I didn't have any food, water or medical supplies, and yet somehow I crawled out of that hole without any injuries."

Martin pushed the left side sleeve of Riddick's t-shirt up over his shoulder revealing the clear skin beneath. "I see more than just your injuries vanished while you were beneath the obelisk. It appears the Ranger tattoo you got on Sol Lucia, is gone, as well."

"Every injury I have ever sustained is gone, and more." Riddick replied, staring through the commotion in the kitchen as if the recruits weren't even there.

"And more?"

"I went to a clinic and had a full body scan." Riddick explained, lifting his t-shirt up to show the right side of his abdomen.

Martin examined the skin beneath and said, "Your appendectomy scar is gone."

"Fucker, you milked that for weeks when we were kids."

Riddick laughed at the thought and said, "The scan showed I've never broken any bones; I'm not missing any teeth and I still have an appendix." Riddick said, handing Martin the scan results. "It seems I have the insides of an 18 year old."

"Lucky you, mine probably look like hell." Martin said with a laugh.

"This isn't luck; this is fucking impossible." Riddick replied. "Shit doesn't grow back or vanish without a trace"

"Yet here you sit, Mr. miracle." Martin replied. "I think, at the very least, you should reevaluate the word impossible."

"Maybe," he replied. "But… The star charts don't lie."

"No they don't."

"I was stranded for 18 months and most of it is a blank."

Martin turned on his tablet and said, Then I think the time has come to tell you what the team learned."

Riddick looked from Martin to the data pad and back again. "If that's so, why is the look on your face saying I shouldn't ask?"

Martin threw up his left hand signaling Riddick should wait. "Let them out first."

Riddick pressed a button on the control perched on the arm of the couch and followed the cage upward with his eyes. When it reached its apex, Riddick said, "I suggest you stow your weapons somewhere I can see them." He gestured to a nearby corner and added, "And then go grab some food out of the kitchen so your squad leader and I can finish our talk."

Martin nodded for them to follow his instructions and they proceeded stripping down as they walked towards a bank of cabinets. As the oversized armor hit the floor it quickly became apparent they were indeed just boys. Riddick was right; they hadn't had the injections; they weren't N7s yet.

On the way to the small makeshift kitchen the group leaned their rifles in the corner, after which, they proceeded to ransack the cupboards like ants attacking an unguarded picnic basket.

"And stay out of the beer." Riddick called out.

"Right." Zims said under his breath.

Riddick leaned over towards Martin with a smirk and whispered at a volume he was sure they could hear, "There are laws about underage drinking in this system and I don't need the beer police after me too."

"Twinkies," Private Sullivan shouted, holding the box over his head for all to see. "I love these things."

Riddick stared at the boys wondering if he should tell them the unopened box was left behind by the previous tenants, nearly 75 years earlier. "Were we ever that young?"

"Sure," Martin answered, looking over at the boys. "ten lifetimes ago."

Martin called for his team to come over and when they arrived carrying drinks and confections, he said, "You chose to be in this story."

"I didn't choose anything." Private Sullivan replied. "I was following orders."

"Not mine." Martin countered with an angry glare. "You bugged me; you disobeyed me; you followed me. So, this shit is on you."

"What story?" Zims blurted.

Martin looked to Riddick with a raised brow. "According to tests performed on your dagger, I'd say it's the oldest story ever told."

Riddick's forehead wrinkled as his brows dropped. "What's that mean?"

Martin removed a black dagger from his upper breast pocket and tossed it to Riddick. "It was a good idea keeping that little memento. Although, it has sparked quite a lot of debate."

"Debate?"

Martin spun the data pad around showing the screen to Riddick and answered, "How and where life began." He gestured at the knife. "Your dagger changed everything we thought we knew about the origins of mankind."

Zims laughed and spoke up, "Not possible."

The lights in the room dimmed as if the generator was losing power and Riddick said, "Shut… the fuck… up." The growing shadows filling the room highlighted his changing features. Features that stunned everyone. The skin on his body transformed into a blackened lava that appeared to have neon blue magma pulsing beneath the cracks.

Zims reached for his sidearm and the others moved back as if preparing to run to the weapons leaning in a nearby corner.

Martin saw their reactions and cleared his throat loudly before they could move. He shook his head no and the visibly shaken young men stayed their ground. After a few uneasy moments, both the lights in the room and the skin barely containing Riddick's anger, returned to normal.

"Kid," Riddick began, "I'm doing my best to control whatever this is. So… when the adults are talking, keep your thoughts to yourself."

Zims looked furious, but he could see speaking out again would lead to disaster.

Martin rolled his eye, shook his head as if Zims were a spoiled child and turned to Riddick with apologetic shrug. "Radiocarbon dating was inconclusive. The findings suggest the dagger is older than our universe."

"How old?" Riddick demanded.

"No way of telling." Martin answered, with a look of uncertainty. "It's not from any known geological formations. The obelisk is an engineered composite constructed using a weave of graphene covering a dense substructure of rare subatomic particles."

"So…" Zims blurted and everyone turned to Riddick waiting for his reaction.

Riddick laughed to himself and said, "Shit, they really are like us."

"Unfortunately," Martin replied, "it would seem so."

Martin turned to Zims with a warning glare and continued, "So.. Pfc. Dumbass, that means his dagger is potentially 20 billion years older than our Universe. And so too, is the obelisk it came from."

"Great," Riddick said, gripping the hilt of his dagger so tightly the tendons in his hand creaked like stretching leather. "What next?" Riddick asked himself.

"A lot," Martin replied, showing everyone the readout on the screen. "That's why my team was tasked with recovering the obelisk."

"Typical," Riddick said, kicking the ottoman. "The Company wants the technology for themselves."

"Undoubtedly," Martin replied, signaling for his team to come closer. "But I have to ask, what did you expect was going to happen when you contacted me?"

"Help."

"I came."

Private Sullivan raised a hand as if he were standing in the back of a classroom and Riddick said, "If you want to ask a question, go ahead."

Sullivan stepped forward and said, "I was wondering, if Not Furya is an uninhabited planet, who put the obelisk there in the first place?"

"That's the question everyone wants answered."

"How long was it there?" Zims asked.

"Shortly before Riddick's arrival."

"What!" Riddick said.

"Afraid so." Martin said, turning to Riddick. "Someone knew you were coming."

"It could have been a coincidence." Zims said.

"No." Martin replied, gesturing to Riddick. "The obelisk was left for him."

Every jaw in the room dropped and a very confused Riddick said, "How'd the lab rats figure that?"

"I've gone over the logs a dozen times. The obelisk was programmed with recognition software that allowed it to sample DNA." Martin replied.

"Whose DNA?" Riddick asked, squeezing the arm of the couch hard enough to make the wooden support crack.

"Yours."

"His." Zims blurted.

"How'd his DNA find it's way into a devise that old?" Sullivan asked.

Martin turned to Riddick and explained, "Isn't it obvious, someone put it there."

"He's that old?"

"Not," Riddick countered, gesturing at Martin. "We grew up together."

"We met when we were 10," Martin replied. "You could have come from anywhere."

"I come from Furya."

"You do." Martin admitted, peering around the faces in the room. "But I find it strange, how there are no known records of where Furya is located."

"It's lost."

"Is it?" Martin replied. "Because as far as I can tell, there is not one shred of information that your homeworld exists.; that it ever existed. At least, not here."

"Aereon said…"

"Aereon is an unreliable source."

"I remember Zhylaw…"

"Who's Aereon?" Sullivan asked in a whisper.

"An elemental." Zims replied.

"And Zhylaw?"

"Necromonger Lord Marshall."

"Quiet!" Martin said. "I don't doubt you came from Furya. I doubt Furya is a lost colony."

"That's absurd. I have memories of…"

"Strange, how those memories showed up when Aereon did."

"Your point?"

"Absurd is thinking you can lose an entire planet and your memories all on the same day."

"What day?" Sullivan whispered.

"The day I was born." Riddick said, wearing an expression that said shut up.

"He's got a point." Zims said.

"Are you…" Sullivan paused to ponder the words traveling towards the tip of his tongue. "really that old?"

"Impossible," Riddick said, scoffing at the idea.

"Is it?"

Zims stepped up, frowning at the lot of them and said, "It's not enough we're supposed to believe the impossible, but now, you're throwing time travel in the mix, too."

Riddick closed his eyes and began messaging his forehead as if the conversation was causing a headache. He looked up and said, "Kid, there's no such thing as time travel."

Martin cleared his throat loudly cutting him off. When Riddick looked over, he nodded yes and tapped the datapad screen. "I'm afraid that's the most plausible answer."

Riddick slammed his fist on the arm of the couch and a cloud of dust rose into air engulfing his face making him cough. Zims and Sullivan stifled their laughter in favor of not meeting the angry blue Riddick again.

"Listen," Martin began, mustering as much empathy as possible. "Here are a few facts we know for certain. You tell me if any of it sounds plausible."

"Go ahead."

"The obelisk was tested for age and each time the results were inconclusive." Martin said, showing him a readout of the test results. "Older than our Universe."

"If you say so." He replied, still rubbing his head.

Martin pulled up a schematic of the obelisk and explained, "An advanced A.I. was molded into the obelisk during its construction."

"If you say so."

"I do." Martin snapped, losing his patience. "To upload your DNA into the A.I. before the obelisk was created, someone, or something, would've had to have had access to a specific DNA sample."

"Who's?" Private Sims asked.

"His." Martin replied, pointing at Riddick.

"Makes sense." Riddick said.

"I know you're not that old, but there is evidence your DNA was there at the time the obelisk was created" He held up his hand before Riddick could argue and added, "So, if you weren't brought here from that time, someone had to bring your DNA back there from this time. Either way, it proves time travel is possible." Martin jammed his finger in Zims' face and added, "Now, are you starting to understand why that rock caused scientist to redefine the origins of man and why this is the oldest story ever told?"


	13. Chapter 13 Heat Of The Moment

**Chapter 12**

 **Heat of the Moment**

 **Mega Corp Service Bay 6 / Deep in the Quarantine Zone**

Zims grabbed Sullivan from behind, stuffed the barrel of his sidearm under his left ear and shouted, "Nobody fucking move!"

Riddick rolled his eyes and smirked at Martin. "I win. You owe me a hundred credits."

"Dammit Zims," Martin said, removing a bill from his pocket and handing it to Riddick. "You couldn't wait another 6 or 7 minutes."

"Get up!" Zims screamed, pointing his gun in Riddick's face. "Or I'll shoot your ass where you sit."

"You'll find it hard to shoot my ass when I'm sitting on it, junior." Riddick said, laughing at Zims. Riddick looked to Martin with a smirk and added, "I know which one is from Intelligence."

"Shut the fuck up and get on your feet." Zims demanded, shaking Sullivan like a rag doll. "There are people waiting outside."

Martin shook his head and flashed a malicious sneer. "Not likely."

Riddick laughed even harder and said, "Oh brother, you haven't lost your touch one bit, have you?"

"Not in the slightest." Martin replied as the sneer on his face became an unspoken threat. "You fucking little cherry, you're the little bitch who bugged me."

"Sorry, kid." Riddick said, moving forward on the edge of the old couch. "If you'd actually had any training, you'd know why no one's out there."

Zims looked at his watch and said, "I was told to bring you outside at 7:30, and it's 7:30. So, get up."

Riddick looked at Martin and asked, "Before you waste any more time, where did you tell your saviors we were meeting?"

"The residential district on Helion Prime."

Riddick broke out in laughter and said, "Little cherry, this is the quarantine zone on Helion 4, your back up is twenty million miles away. I hate to tell you, your back up is going to be late."

Zims kicked Riddick's boot and shouted, "Bullshit, get on your feet or I'll shoot him in the head."

"Kid," Riddick said, rolling his eyes. "You're not very good at this, are you? The whole trick to gaining control over an adversary is finding the right leverage. And you don't have any."

"I'm serious. I'll shoot him in the head." Zims repeated.

"Ok, go ahead," Riddick replied with a coy smirk.

"Are you fucking crazy!" Sullivan yelled.

Zims jammed his gun under Sullivan's chin and shouted, "I'll do it!"

Riddick looked as though he were thinking it over for a moment and then said, "No, still don't give a shit."

"Come on!" Sullivan shouted, trying to get away. "This stupid prick is gonna shoot me."

Zims lashed out harder than intended with his sidearm hitting Sullivan in the temple and losing his grip as his comrade feel to the floor.

Zims stared around the room mouth agape as if he didn't know what to do next and Riddick scowled. "Kid, I don't care what happens to any of you." He saw Sullivan wink at him and added, "In fact, you'd be doing me a favor. I never intended to let any of you assholes leave this room alive anyhow."

Without any sign of warning, Sullivan kicked Zims in the ankles with all his might sending his feet high in the air. Zims crashed down sending the sidearm in his hand skittering across the floor until it came to rest beneath a metal shelving unit near an employee bathroom in the back corner.

"Hah!" Sullivan shouted, jumping to his feet and rubbing off the blood weeping from the abrasion on his temple. "You didn't see that coming did you, André?"

"Nice move, Corporal Sullivan." Martin said, patting him on the shoulder as Sullivan drew his sidearm and pointed it at Zims.

"Thanks," Sullivan replied, with a triumphant grin. "But I'm a Pfc."

Martin placed his right knee on Zims' left shoulder, pressed his weight down and jammed the cold sidearm against tbe back of Zims sweaty neck. "Not anymore Corporal Sullivan."

"Thanks Commander Fry."

"You earned it soldier." Martin said, leaning forward and placing his mouth behind Zims left ear. "But you haven't earned shit, little rat." Martin looked to Riddick and asked, "Any suggestions what we should do with this little spider?"

Riddick stood up and said, "Give me minute, I need to take a piss and make a quick phone call." As Riddick walked to the restroom, he retrieved the handgun from beneath the cabinet along the way. He checked the weapon, did a double take and laughed.

"What?" Martin said.

"Empty," Riddick replied, drawing the slide back and chambering a round. "The little cherry never chambered a round." He shoved the weapon beneath his belt and walked off making a call.

"I thought we were supposed to be friends Andre?" Sullivan asked, unable to hide the anger in his tone.

"We are, Jimmy."

"Then why?"

"They said they'd kill Jenny if I didn't do what they wanted."

"What did they tell you?" Martin replied, as if he hadn't heard correctly. "The fuckers couldn't even be original."

Sullivan stared for a moment, wondering what he meant and said, "Andre, you had to know it was just a threat."

"It wasn't." Martin replied. "Remember, to use force, you need leverage." Martin yanked Zims off the floor and shoved him on the couch, and added, "And, as you can see from Andre's behavior of late, they're masters at leverage."

Fifteen minutes had passed, when the door to the restroom burst open with enough force to bury the knob in the wall. Riddick stormed across the room, weapon at the ready, hauled Zims off the couch and stuffed the barrel beneath his chin.

"Don't do it!" Sullivan shouted. "It wasn't his fault. They said they'd kill his sister."

Riddick looked to Martin for confirmation and after he nodded, Riddick said, "So you made a bad choice; you betrayed your team; you betrayed your brothers; all to save your family. Now I see why they choose you. Not enough training; way to many thoughts of home."

"Do whatever you want," Zims replied. "I fucked up."

"Yes you did," Riddick said. "But everyone deserves a second chance."

Then it happened, Riddick stuffed his sidearm in Zims hand and said, "Choose your path, man or marionette?"

Everyone watching looked utterly horrified by the turn of event. No more so, than Andre. He looked at the weapon in his hand as if it were a poisonous snake and dropped it on the floor. "I'm sorry. I never meant for any if this to happen.

Riddick picked it up, stuffed it back in Andres hand, forced him to draw the hammer back and then stuffed the weapon beneath his own chin. "You didn't answer the question, man or puppet?" Riddick asked, weapon under his chin, mirrored eyes reflecting the young man's terror.

Tears poured down Zims' cheeks, he tried to let go of the gun but Riddick held him fast. "I want to do the right thing, but if I do, Jenny dies."

"Kid, if there is one thing I've learned, it's people die. Sometimes it's not our fault; most of the time it is. Either way, all we are left with is the consequences of our own choices." He let go of Zims and said, "Now choose."

Zims flipped the selector to safe.

A knock came from the door and a harem of hookers came strolling in laughing. "Oh… did we catch you boys at a bad time?" Ginger said, walking over to see what was happening.

Sullivan stared at the women wide-eyed and stammering, "No… no… no mam."

"Such a polite young man." She said, patting him on the head. She turned to Riddick and added, "Why does everyone feel the need to point their weapons at you."

"Just lucky, I guess."

One of the women laughed and said, "I do hope they haven't all gone off."

Ginger laughed at Corporal Sullivan and said, "Don't worry ladies. These are big strong Company Rangers, they've been trained to hold their fire until they see the whites of your eyes."

The women laughed in unison.

"Isn't that right, honey." Ginger said, patting Sullivan on the head again as he turned six shades of red.

"Yes mam."


	14. Chapter 14 The Party Must Go On

**Chapter 13**

 **The Party Must Go On**

 **The old factory 10 blocks from the alley where Martin's mother died.**

Zims and Sullivan put their recent differences aside in favor of sequins, short skirts and pheromones. Such is the power of beauty, it turns brothers into enemies and enemies into friends.

Martin gestured to the sidearm Zims just handed Riddick and said, "That's crazy. You have no idea if you could survive a bullet to the head."

Riddick rolled the sidearm over, handed it to Martin and said, "I'm not crazy or stupid."

Martin saw the empty grip in his hand and laughed. "Nice. It's easy to be a hero when there's an empty weapon under your chin."

"Like I said, I'm not stupid."

"What the hell did you invite them here for?" Martin asked, trying not to draw attention to himself.

Riddick smiled and said, "If I need to explain why they're here, you may be to far gone to care."

"This was supposed to be a private meeting, not a goddamn frat party."

"Hey," Riddick replied, leaning in closer. "You brought the frat boys. So I invited the entertainment." He gestured towards a framed photo hanging on a distant wall and added, "Now… let's go finish our private chat."

"There not supposed to be here." Martin said to himself, staring at the room full of people.

"Rule one. Always be ready to improvise and adapt." Riddick replied, walking off towards the refrigerator to get a few beers. After returning, he handed Martin a bottle and said, "Come on. Let the baby sitters do there work. This is costing me a lot."

"No doubt." Martin said, following him shaking his head.

Riddick stopped by the photo pretending to look at it and asked, "Did she suffer?"

A huge lump raced up from the pit of Martin's stomach and lodged in his throat. It was the one question Martin knew was coming and the last question he wanted to answer. "No," he said, in a barely audible volume.

"Tell me everything." Riddick said.

"You must have figured out my big promotion to team commander was just a way to get rid of me."

"Sorry about that," Riddick said, patting Martin on the shoulder.

"For the promotion."

"No. You always deserved the promotion." Riddick said. "I'm sorry you felt guilty for how you got it. You know I never blamed you; I never thought you were part of it."

Martin couldn't look Riddick in the eyes. Two decades of guilt and shame had just crashed down on him, all at once. "I should have been there for you, for her."

"Not your fault."

He looked at Riddick wearing the color of shame and said, "When I came back from my first mission and learned you'd been arrested, court marshalled and thrown in deep storage, I didn't know what to do."

"How did she find out?"

"I don't think she ever did." Martin answered, looking away. "When they couldn't break you, they went after her." He stared at his feet unable or unwilling to look up again. "If I'd told her what was happening maybe she could have gotten to safety first. But it was all over before I returned."

Riddick reached out, squeezed Martins shoulder and said, "None of this was your fault. I caused it all when I took those files. Just tell me what happened."

Martin shook his head unable to make eye contact. "After it went down; after I realized what had happened. I left." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I used every back channel transport I could find to make my way home. But when I got there, she was in a coma, and the company was waiting."

"Do you know what happened?"

"Not really, all I know is the camp doctor brought her in, half alive." Martin explained. "The attending physician said, she'd sustained a traumatic brain injury."

"But you went back with them, why?"

Martin looked up and answered, "My sister was dying; my only friend was locked away. Where else did I have to go?"

"Anywhere… but back there."

"Aren't you the one who said its not good to hold on to the past?"

"What happened to you?" Riddick asked, wanting to change the subject.

"When?"

"When you were here. Before you were taken to the orphanage." Riddick replied, poking the N7 badge on his breast plate. "You said, you were a sickly runt. I never met that kid."

"Funny," Martin said, looking out the windows towards his old home. "I didn't remember that kid either." He turned back to Riddick and explained, "Until now."

"What happened between here and the orphanage?"

"Something." He replied, with a foreboding expression. "When I returned to Sigma 3, I heard about the trial program to increase metabolic performance; I heard no one could get the serum to actually work." Martin smiled and said, "You know me. I went to the brass and volunteered. They sent me to a secure lab for testing."

"Stupid."

"Agreed," Martin admitted with a shrug. "I'm always trying to stay at the top."

"Kiss ass."

"Hey, you always wore big shoes." Martin replied. "I had to do whatever it took to keep up."

"Don't blame me for you being a kiss ass."

Martin laughed and said, "I gave a blood sample on Monday and heard they had solved the problem on Tuesday."

"Coincidence."

"Doubtful." Martin replied, with a vehement shake of his head. "When the serum went to clinical trials, I was informed my participation would no longer be required.

"Sounds suspicious."

"I thought so." Martin said. "So, I did a little covert digging on my own and learned the N7 serum they're using isn't from an old N6 replicant, it's from me."

"You!"

Martin nodded and said, "The N7 serum was already in my blood stream."

Riddick didn't say anything, his mind was filled with swirling scenarios and wild conspiracy theories. "How's that possible?"

"Not a clue." Martin answered, staring through the window at the rain outside. "All I know is a sickly little kid left this planet and arrived at his new home an N7."

Riddick noticed the dust covered photograph on the wall and felt a sense of the familiar. He stared at the old frame, barely able to look away. Moved the frame to one side and saw the pristine paint beneath the frame. The bright white was circled by an aged taupe; it had hung there for a long time.

"How old do think this photo is?" Riddick asked, scratching a small section of dust off the black frame.

"How would I know?"

"Humor me."

Martin couldn't understand why Riddick had taken a sudden interest in the photo. It was covered in a thick layer of dust obscuring three figures standing side by side. "I'd say it's at least 75 years old." Martin answered staring at the clean spot behind the frame. "That's around the time the quarantine went into effect."

"Doesn't it look familiar?"

"Seriously," Martin replied with a frown. "What's with the goddamn photo?"

"You don't recognize it?" Riddick said, reaching out and wiping off the glass. Three young children stood together smiling back on set of stone steps in front of a large wooden door.

Martin's mouth fell open, his eyes widened. "It can't be."

Riddick took the frame off the wall, peering at his younger self standing beside his future wife and brother in law. "It's the photo that hung on Sister Beatrice's wall next to her bedside table. The one the Reverend Mother made us pose for the day you arrived at the orphanage."

"How did a 25 year old photo find its way on to this wall 75 years ago?"

Riddick turned to Martin with a foreboding expression and said, "Better question–"

"How'd someone know we'd find it?" Martin said, finishing Riddick's thought.

Martin stared at Ginger, thoughts consumed by impossible ideas.

Ginger saw him staring at her and waved with a smile. Martin waved back feigning a smile and asked, "What the hell is going on?"

Riddick didn't answer, he was carefully wiping off the glass with the bottom of his t-shirt and fighting off the memories of times gone by.

"Riddick," Martin spoke up, trying to snap him out of it. "I don't know what's after you, but whatever it is, seems to be folding time and space to reach you."

"Let it come." Riddick said, peering down at his darkening skin. "I may have a few new tricks up my sleeve.

"New to you, maybe," Martin warned. "But hardly new to the thing coming after you;." Martin tapped the frame in his hand and said, "If this thing really is a hundred steps ahead of all of us."

"Then rule 2: You can't fight an enemy, you can't see."

"No," Martin agreed. "What next?"

"Fall back, assess the enemy's strengths and weaknesses, and wait until it shows itself."

Martin nodded and said, "I suppose. But before that happens there are a few more things you should know."

"There's more."

"There's always more," Martin replied, gesturing at the spirited party. "I'm sure the company is outside."

"I know."

"That's only the half of it. We followed a reconnaissance vessel into this system. It was trying to be stealthy, but we managed to get in its slipstream before it saw us."

"Who was it?"

"It was a Necro ship." Martin explained. "It held a compliment of around fifty."

"Good." Riddick said, taking the photo out of frame. "They'll know where I can find Vaako."

Martin handed Riddick his full beer and said, "Here. There's more."

"Figures."

"I noticed something the labcoats missed." Martin said, taking out his data pad again and bringing up a comparison of two different scans. "The scan on the left clearly shows how the serum in this blood sample mutated the nucleotides in the DNA." He touched the screen and added, "Look, it left behind visible markers."

Riddick studied the two scans and said, "They look identical to me."

Martin highlighted a cross-section of the scans and enlarged it. "And now," he said pointing to a shadowy section of the scan on the right. "See, this DNA doesn't have any of the markers the mutated DNA has; this person's DNA was never altered; they were born an N7."

"Where did the labcoats come by these samples?"

"These samples belong to you and me." Martin answered, tapped Riddick on the shoulder. "There's a reason I could never keep up with you."

"Are you saying I'm an N7?"

"No," he replied. "I'm pretty sure you were the real deal and your DNA was used to heal me. I'm the copy."

"Anything else you'd like to hit me with?" Riddick said, following up with a halfhearted smile.

"Actually," he replied, with an apologetic frown. "there is. Antonia Chillingsworth's sister was the lead scientist on the Not Furya mission."

"Great. Is she anything like her sister?"

Martin shrugged and said, "She has the brass convinced you're the key to winning the war against the Necros."

"Bitch."

"Hey, you did kill her sister."

Riddick scowled and said, "I wish people would stop saying that. I didn't kill her sister."

"Technically no. But apparently Regina doesn't care who did the deed. She holds you responsible."

"Fuck her. She's crazy."

"Perhaps," Martin admitted. "But she presents some pretty compelling evidence for tracking you down at any cost."

"Like what?" Riddick asked, rolling his eyes.

"50% of all the cells removed from beneath the obelisk were necrotic prior to transformation."

"Are you saying…"

"You were pretty much gangrenous by the time you reached the chamber." Martin said, finishing his sentence. "How you were even mobile is a miracle."

"I have no idea how long I was under that rubble before I crawled out."

"She has the brass convinced the obelisk brought you back from the dead; not only brought you back, it made you…"

"A monster."

"No one knows. But it doesn't matter, because whatever it put inside you, they want it. The fools are so convinced she right, they dubbed the obelisk the Lazarus Stone. That's why they'll never stop hunting you. They believe you are the key to limitless power and maybe even immortality."

Riddick drank the beer in one long gulp, threw the bottle across the room and said, "It was hard enough to stay off the radar before, but now…"

Martin took a small devise out of his pocket and said, "No one will come looking for you, if everyone believes you're dead." He flipped a switch on its side panel and handed it to Riddick.

"Is this the payload out of a Necro warhead?" Riddick asked, examining the devise for a way to disarm it.

"It is, and best yet, It has just enough power to vaporize an entire city block and it will leave the right energy signature to implicate the Necros for your death."

"What the hell are you thinking?"

Martin shook his head at him. "Sorry brother. I'm changin' the rules of the game. I couldn't be there for you when you needed me the most, but this time, I can make certain you get a fresh start."

Riddick's mouth dropped as he stared at the devise in utter shock. "What's wrong with you? Have you lost your mind? I never wanted this." Riddick grabbed him by the collar and said, "I never asked for this."

"No… you didn't. I want you to remember that, later. This isn't your fault."

Riddick stared around the room at the innocent faces and demanded, "Stop this, now."

"Not going to happen, this party popper is set to blow in…" He held it up and looked at the counter. "A little under fifteen minutes."

"Don't do this."

"I'm sorry to report, tonight Richard B. Riddick is going to die."

"Bree wouldn't want this. You owe her-"

"She's dead." Martin replied, interrupting Riddick. "And the dead don't want shit." He replied as a hint of rage grew behind his eyes. "As for owing Bree anything, you're the only one who owes her. You owe it to her to live the life you denied her when you sent those back up files to her."

"You think I don't know that?"

"I'm sure you do," Martin admitted. "So… here's how this is gonna play out, because I'm not asking, I'm telling. You're going to go out the back door, hit the ground running and never look back here again."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because you owe Bree and you owe me."

Riddick didn't know what to say, he just stood there staring at the readout counting down. "Dick."

"Definitely," Martin said, pointing out the window. "I don't know what's after you. But you need to find a safe place where you can figure this shit out and end it, or I'm going to do what I came here to do."

"What's that?"

"I'm going to blow this thing here and now, and send both of our asses to the other side, where nothing can ever reach either of us again."

"That's why you came here. To kill us both."

"I thought it was the only way."

"The only way to what?"

"To save the Universe."

"And how the fuck does killing yourself, help save anything?" Riddick said, stepping closer. "Unless you're not telling me everything."

"I told you there's always more." Martin replied, with a frown. "Unfortunately, my team unwittingly accelerated our time table. There's no time to tell you everything"

"Tell me."

"Your going to learn somethings about me later today and when you do, I hope you won't hate me." Martin said, looking away. "I did what I thought I had to do back then."

"I won't hate you."

Martin pointed at the photo in Riddick's hand and said, "I know you, brother. Better than you know yourself. You'll bare the anger of my deceit for all the days of your life. The same way you have suffered beneath the weight of Bree's death. Just let it go. There's no need for guilt."

"I cant?"

He looked in his eyes. "You have too."

"Perhaps, when this is done."

"I need you to figure this out; you're the only one who can. But not as Riddick; that guy has to die."

"We could warn them." Riddick said, gesturing at party. "let them get to safety."

"I never wanted this." Martin said, staring at the group laughing at each others bad jokes. "They weren't supposed to be here; it was only supposed to be you and me. But it's to late now. You know my team was followed and you know by who."

Riddick nodded. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry, but this party is coming to a close."

Martin turned the bomb over and said, "12 minutes. It's time to go."

"I know." Riddick said, squeezing his hand. "I wish there was more time."

Riddick stared at there joined hands and said, "If you see Bree… tell her I said…"

"I will." Martin said, knowing there was no way Riddick could finish verbalizing the thought. "Will you do one thing for me when you go?"

"Anything."

"Take Ginger with you. I know she's not my…" Martin paused, staring at Ginger over his shoulder. "But I'd like to think I helped save one person tonight."

Riddick nodded and said, "Brother, you saved more than one person tonight."

"Thanks," Martin said, releasing Riddick's hand. "You should get going."

Riddick walked over to Ginger grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the back room, saying, "Come on, baby. You and I need to have a private talk." The crowd of pheromone overdosed boys cheered him on.

The door leading into the storage dock closed behind them and Ginger yanked her hand away. "If I'd known this is how you treat women, I would've stayed with Ricco."

"You can thank me for this tomorrow when you're having dinner with your kid." Riddick said, catching Ginger in the left cheek with a round house punch. She bounced off the wall, landed in his arms and he threw Ginger's limp body over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Riddick ran to the back door, quietly opened it just a crack as a wave of cool damp air blew in. It had been raining hard and the alley was filled with puddles. Riddick slipped through the door, made his way down the metal steps hugging the wall for cover. He scanned the rooftops for signs of life quietly making his way through the dark alley traversing through the shadows. When Riddick was far enough away to go unnoticed, he took off at a breakneck speed carrying Ginger away from danger.

After a few minutes, he turned down a random alley, making his way through the deep puddles heading towards an old metal dumpster all the way in the back. He skid to a halt, nearly dropping Ginger at his feet and fumbled to hoist her high in the air. He rolled her over the edge just as the night sky erupted in a ball of flame jumping in on top of her and yanking the covers closed as clods of brick, and mortar fell from the sky like rain.


	15. Chapter 15 A Sign Of Things To Come

**Chapter 14**

 **A Sign of Things to Come**

 **An alley 10 blocks from the blast**

Riddick sat a top a pile of trash listening to the rhythm of Ginger's shallow breathing mixed with a steady patter of light rain. The explosion had subsided, the rubble had ceased falling, but now, came the eerie silence before the inevitable storm.

A reddish orange light filtering through the lid told a tale of choking smoke and searing heat; the zone was on fire. And everyone, not consumed in the blast, was running for their lives.

"Crap," he whispered in the dark, lifting the lid a few inches trying to get a look at what was going on outside. Riddick needed to get moving, but he couldn't abandon Ginger. There was a promise made and Riddick intended keeping it.

The crackling sky lit up like a fiery orange peel as lightning bolts raced across the horizon in both directions. Grey ash fell from the smoldering clouds like giant snowflakes during a winter storm. But this was no ordinary storm, he thought, conjuring up the image of a painting he'd seen in his youth; it was a depiction of hell.

He dropped over the edge landed in ankle deep water surveying the scene as rising columns of smoke penetrated the energy field attracting clusters of lightning bolts that reflected in the puddles. The lightning illuminated two figures kneeling on the ledge high above. Riddick pressed himself against the side of the dumpster. But his effort went in vane. One of the men pointed to his location as two large figures walked into the end of the alley. There would be no chance of escape now; the exit was blocked on all sides.

Riddick walked out into the center of the alley preparing to meet his adversaries head on. He knew them well, they were fanatic members of the Lord Marshal's most trusted honor guard. Their heavy gravity rifles and cumbersome ceremonial armor slowed their approach giving him time to formulate a strategy. The men stopped a short distance away, lowering their weapons to the ready. Their display of firepower did little to unsettle Riddick. He had looked down the barrel of a gun more times than he could remember.

Riddick offered an unimpressed nod and said, "Poole. Martell. I didn't expect to run across you again." The orange reflection shimmering off his silver eye shine slowly turned a frigid neon blue.

"Lord Marshal Riddick." Martell said, flipping off the safety on his rifle. "And we hoped to never see you again."

"Ever," Poole added, flicking his safety off his rifle, as well.

"Don't call me that." Riddick replied, fists curling into balls at his sides. The orange sky over the rooftops worsened as if the fires in the distance spread out of control.

"You could have been a God." Poole said, spitting at his feet. "But you refused to take your rightful place."

"You are the rightful air to the throne." Martell said.

"Transcendence." Riddick said, wearing a darkening sneer. "Sorry boys, I liked the man I was." He said with a smirk. "Besides, who wants to rule a brainwashed pack of zealots."

"Pity."

"Not really," Riddick replied his skin darkening ever so slightly. "But it's nice to see you're still good little boot lickers." Riddick took a step closer and they raised their rifles to their shoulders. "I'm sure Lord Marshall Vaako is very proud."

"There can be no Lord Marshall Vaako." Martell explained. "As long as there is still a Lord Marshall Riddick."

"I guess you really do keep what you kill?" Riddick said with a sarcastic grin on his face. "Poor Vaako. Always the general and never a king."

"You can see his problem." Martell said, peering at Riddick over his sight.

Riddick said, offering up a sarcastic laugh. "I see all the lies, all the backstabbing and now, even after transcendence, he's still a nobody."

"You should have died on that planet." Poole snapped, pointing a finger at Riddick.

"You should have sent a real warrior and not a coward." Riddick replied, looking over his shoulder at the two figures on the roof. " Vaako shouldn't have welched on a deal. But then again, it looks like you're all backstabbers are cowards."

"Vaako wants your head." Poole said, raising his rifle to his shoulder.

"If that were true, why does he keep sending cannon fodder and clowns to collect it?"

Martell pulled a black cloth sac from a thigh pocket and said, "I see you're not going to make this easy."

"Fair warning ladies, it didn't work out so well for the last guy who tried to take my head." Riddick replied, as his skin darkened. "You can still walk away."

Poole stepped back as if he recognized the begin stage of Riddick's transformation. "Don't worry," Martell said, taking a step forward. "The master said, The Riddick isn't in control yet."

"The master, the Riddick," he replied, staring at them as if they were bugs. "More cryptic Necro babble."

"If you can't understand our meaning, perhaps you should have learned our ways when you had the chance," Poole replied, moving up beside Martell.

Riddick laughed at them. "But that would mean, I actually cared about your creepy little dead man club." He spit at Poole's feet, the neon saliva burned and fizzled on the wet pavement causing them to step back. "Not so tough, after all."

"Blasphemer."

"Because I think you're spineless cowards who chose to submit rather than fight to save your families, friends and freedom. I should have put you down when I had the chance."

Before either man could respond, the lid of the dumpster flipped open and Ginger flopped over the edge landing on her backside in 4 inches of ashy water. "Dammit!" she shouted, not paying attention to the men in front of her. Ginger rolled over, rear-end sticking in the air digging around beneath the dumpster until she came out with a broken heel. "I just bought these shoes."

Martell laughed as Ginger stood up dripping water and wiping ash off her streaked face. "You always did have a thing for breeders and concubines."

"Hey ugly, don't hate because the ladies can't get enough." Riddick said, pointing at himself with a grin.

Ginger stared between Riddick and the two Necromongers wearing a look of shock. "Why is everyone pointing guns at you?"

Poole frowned at Ginger, fired a blast striking her mid-chest slamming off the dumpster and knocking it into the wall as her limp body landed face down half submerged in water."

Riddick watched in disbelief, unable to stop it from happening or do anything to prevent her death. Ginger's motionless corpse peered up from the puddle, head twisted to one side with a trickle of blood oozing from the corner of her left eye. She was dead; and like all the others Riddick had failed to save, he was consumed by guilt.

Voices shouted in the near distance, barely registering over the screaming need for vengeance growing in Riddick's ears. He felt like a teakettle ready to blow its lid and when he turned to Poole and Martell, he found them 10 feet further away wearing expressions of terror.

"Cowards," he said, as the energy building in his guts crisped his blackening tongue. "Shooting unarmed civilians."

The energy transforming his body sank down, pouring from the bottoms of his feet as it froze the puddles around him. The on coming ice cracked and groaned as it snaked its way towards the street.

Poole fired into the slippery sheet sending up a wall of snow that obscured Riddick from view. When the storm settled, the energy had gone from Riddick's body taking with it all signs of transformation except the icy blue eyes glowing in rage.

"I told you he couldn't control it." Martell said, sneering over his sights.

A red point of light crossed Riddick's field of vision drawing his attention to the roof line at the far end of the alley. He watched a blazing dot dance on the shoulders of his adversaries and laughed.

"What are you laughing at, dead man?" Poole asked, feigning a surge of courage.

"You made a rookie mistake, assholes." Riddick said, taking a single step to the side, positioning himself directly between the two men.

"If you say so."

"Tell me something before you go." Riddick asked with a foreboding smile that made their blood run cold. "When you dumbasses turned down this alley, did either of you think to check your sixes for snipers?"

The round tore through the side of Martell's neck a second before the report reached the back of the alley. It passed Riddick's cheek striking the wall above the dumpster as Martell fell to his knees clasping the gapping troth in his neck. A geyser of sticky blood spewed across the ice like a malfunctioning snow cone machine spurting gallons of thick cherry syrup.

Martell looked up in disbelief, swaying from side to side as his eyes rolled in their sockets. A second round sent his left breastplate flying passed Riddick as Martell toppled face first onto the ice.

Poole made to swing around, but it was to late. A round struck him in the small of his back sending his codplate and everything behind it flying onto the ground beside Riddick. Poole screamed in agony, holding the hole where his manhood had hung moments earlier. The next round struck the same place, only this time, it removed his hands. He fell on his knees holding up two bloody stumps ejecting blood into the air like lawn sprinklers. Riddick studied him for a quick moment and thought the attack seemed personal.

The smell of rusty blood wafted up hitting Riddick in the nostrils and the compulsion to investigate made him move closer. He knelt down beside Poole, his dark senses peaking, his mouth watering. Riddick grabbed Poole's right arm studying the bubbling wound like a child coveting an ice-cream cone.

"Help me," Poole begged, as his life force drained away into the puddles beneath his knees.

"I learned something when I was Lord Marshall," Riddick said, breathing in the intoxicating scent of blood. "Watching you scurvy little bugs run around trying to make sense of life and death made me realize just how little you really know."

"Help me," Poole begged.

"The way you helped her." Riddick replied, looking at Ginger.

"Please."

"I think not." He replied, pulling Poole's stub closer and licking the bloody pulp from the end as Poole screamed in pain. Riddick spit Poole's blood back in his face with a sadistic smile. "All your bullshit fairytale beliefs don't amount to jack shit." Riddick said, placing his lips close to his ear. "Because none of you know what happens after you die. It's all just guesswork, superstition and dogma.

"I don't want to die."

"My point exactly," Riddick replied. "It doesn't matter what anyone believes. When death comes it doesn't matter who you are. Rangers, Necros, Mercs and Priests alike, you all die shitting your pants in fear."

Poole's head exploded in a cloud of pink mist as a single round tore his face to shreds. Riddick looked to the shooter and saw a tall slender figure with long black hair and pale white skin stand up. He looked from the shooter to Ginger corpse and understood why the attack on Poole had been personal.

A gun battle erupted from the roof above the dumpster and two bodies fell into the alley. The sound of a large assailant running away echoed off the alley walls and Riddick knew the shooter wasn't alone. But who were his would be saviors?

The slender woman gestured towards him, then to the horizon and lastly to her wrist. He knew the signals. Rangers used them to communicate during times of radio silence. She wanted him to go somewhere, but Riddick didn't understand. He checked his watch; it was 7;28PM.

"What?" he said, signaling a need for more intel.

The woman swung her rifle over her shoulder, gestured to her wrist one more time and then ran off in the opposite direction. And with her exit, Riddick was alone with the thought that something bad was about to happen and he didn't know what it was.

He walked to Ginger's corpse, knelt down and gently closed her eye lid. "Sometimes no matter what you do, someone's going to die." He said to himself.

He made his way down the alley to the mouth of the street scanning the rooftops hugging the walls. The ash was coming down hard now and the choking smoke was growing thicker by the minute. It was getting hot. The fire was closing on his position.

Reaching the street, Riddick heard a frantic woman screaming for her children to stay close to her. They burst out of the smoke, rags wrapped around the children's faces as she coughed herself along. When the woman saw Riddick, she ran straight to him and used her remaining air to say, "Help my children, please."

She collapsed in his arms as her terrified children looked to him for help. Lifting her into his arms, Riddick walked around the corner and booted the corner shops front door in.

"Find me a couple of blankets." He commanded, lying the woman down near the front counter. He loosened her clothing, removed her shoes and placed a folded jacket from a nearby rack beneath her head. Triage, he thought remembering his days as a Company Ranger.

"Here," the woman's daughter said, handing him two blankets she had found on a shelf in the back of the tiny shop.

"Thanks," he said, covering the woman with a blanket. He jumped up, made his way around the counter and tore the register open.

An small red light flashed beneath the counter, a silent alarm had been triggered activating a humanoid security bot. The bot came out of the back room and said, "Halt. You are trespassing."

"Command override priority alpha one ex one," Riddick said, pointing to the woman on the floor. "This woman is in imminent danger. You will summon medical responders and provide on scene treatment until they arrive.

"Affirmative," the robot replied, going over and doing a full body scan. "This woman has sustained severe smoke inhalation." The robot said, placing a nasal cannula around her head. "I will provide oxygen until help arrives."

Riddick peered down at the little girl standing over her mother in tears and said, "Prognosis."

"There is a 98.7% chance the patient will make a full recovery."

Riddick knelt down beside the little girl and said, "You heard the tin can, she'll be fine."

"Thanks mister." The little girl said, surprising him with a hug.

He didn't know what to do, he was terrified she would rub off the ash and see the monster beneath. But she just kept her arms around him holding on as if she couldn't let go. "It's going to be OK." He said, gently prying her off.

He walked to the front door, looked through the large storefront window at the falling ash outside and noticed a street sign on the nearby corner; it read: Cortland Ave.

"What's wrong Mister?" the boy asked, staring up at Riddick as his eyes widened in shock.

Riddick tossed the little boy the blanket. "Put this under the door after I leave. It will keep the smoke out." Martin had been right all along. Ginger was his mother.

He stared towards the flaming wreckage of the workshop thinking that if Martin was right, then both he and Breanna were still alive. They were children; but they were alive.

"I can still save them." He said to himself.

A wave of terror tore at his guts as Riddick remembered the sniper gesturing towards the horizon. He checked his watch. It was 7:45PM. How could the sniper have known about Breanna's attack? 8PM, Riddick thought, Martin said, Breanna was attacked at 8PM. "15 minutes," he said to himself.

"15 minutes." the little girl repeated, as she knelt down beside her mother watching Riddick reach for the knob.

"To save my wife and change everything." he answered, yanking the door open and running into the inferno outside.


	16. Chapter 16 Race To The Beginning

**Chapter 15**

 **Race To The Beginning**

 **The other side of the city**

On the other side of town a little girl ran up Boylston St., heading straight for the moment that would bring about the deaths of Martin, everyone on his new team and a group of not-so-innocent hookers.

Riddick didn't understand how any of what was happening was possible. But he was certain if he prevented Breanna and Martin from reaching the orphanage, he could change everything. All he had to do was save Breanna and make sure they never met. Riddick knew that meant they would never fall in love, but both she and Martin would lead full lives, and he wouldn't be responsible for their deaths.

The incoming blast pushed through the smoke like an invisible force parting the red sea and Riddick jumped out of its path just as it passed. The gravity rifle blast took the back off his shirt as it passed. Necros on the roofs he thought, looking for cover.

"Again!" a voice screamed from somewhere inside the smoke.

A surge of blaster rounds sounded in the distance and Riddick jumped into a doorway across the street. He knelt down, peering around the edge of the building formulating a hasty plan. A storm drain across the street gurgled as muddy rain water poured into the darkness below, it was just large enough to squeeze through, but it would take time; time he didn't have. Riddick needed a little luck and a lot of speed.

It was raining hard and the heavy ash falling covered the street in a thick layer of slippery muck. He tore the rest of his shirt off, darted across the street as gunfire erupted in the distance and dove at the hole like a runner stealing home plate. He slid through the hole, banging the back of his head and leaving clods of skin stuck on the top edge of the culvert. But he made it through in one piece. Riddick flailed helplessly, plummeting head first into the darkness and splashed down in a waist deep stream of gelatinous muck that tasted like a mixture of rotting garbage, and old ass.

He rose from the chunky effluence coughing up mouthfuls of slime trying to get his bearings. A steady stream of water and ash poured into the storm sewer making it almost as difficult to move as it was to breath. He turned in the direction of Boylston St., forcing himself through the rising water as his burning lungs gulped in the toxic fumes filtering down from the raging fires above.

The closer Riddick came to the center of the flames, the more the air and water heated up around him, all the while, a little girl drew nearer to danger.

After eight hundred yards, Riddick came to an access ladder beneath a smoldering manhole cover. He climbed the ladder, pressed his shoulder against the heavy smoldering cover and heaved with all his might. The cover lifted six inches letting in a maelstrom of smoke and ash that crisped his bare skin and he dropped the cover falling back into the effluence below. As the fires raged above the thought of all the women he'd failed to save burned his mind. Shazza, Caroline, Kera and his wife. The guilt drove him onward like an out of control hot box in a steam engine.

Riddick forced himself back on his feet, ran through the darkness ignoring the lack of air in his lungs thinking of nothing but his goal; save the girl. Put the past right again.

An explosion fifty yards ahead, rocked the streets above sending a huge chunk of the ceiling down as if it were a ramp leading up to the smoky street above. The wave of water slammed him under again. But now, the fire was behind him. He may have a chance. The worst may be over.

Riddick ran up the debris straight into a volley of weapons fire and dove into a corner. He was trapped with no where to go.

"Fire," a voice called out, and a moment later the corner of the building turned into a rock slide of shrapnel that cut into his bare, bleeding skin.

Riddick slammed himself into the lowest corner of the building trying to give his enemies a smaller target. The desperation of the moment came out as a scream that turned his skin black as the night sky.

A little girl cried out in the night and without realization or intent, Riddick leapt to his feet and took off at a flat out run heading straight for the sound. He ran through buildings; moved through obstacles crossing from one dimension to another like a shadow passing through the darkness.

He pushed his way through the vale dividing one dimension from another and found himself standing in the alley beside the pharmacy. He didn't know where he was or how he got there, but the shrill scream echoing off the high walls told him, he was in the right place.

Riddick turned to the commotion, staring in fixated disbelief at a little girl in a blue dress holding a pair pliers in both hands; clamped in the jaws was the testicles of an old man.

"My mother showed me how to handle men like you!" Breanna screamed, clamping down on the plier's with all her strength.

"Mercy," the old man cried, dancing about on the end of the pliers. "Mercy." Every time the old man pulled away, he made his humiliating predicament that much more painful.

Closing on their positions, Riddick broke out in laughter and Breanna saw his scorched form, and screamed in terror.

The old man seized the opportunity, slapped her in the face and knocked the pliers from her hands. He pulled a dagger from his belt, raised it high over his head ready to strike and heard something nearby.

"Hey!" Riddick screamed, hurling a trash can down the alley. It struck the old man knocking him to the ground amidst a flurry of spreading garbage. But the old man surprised Riddick, he leapt to his feet and ran deeper into the safety of the alley.

Riddick ran to Breanna side. "Are you OK?" he asked, checking for signs of injury.

"Get away!" Breanna screamed, slapping his hands with the pliers.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Riddick said, stepping away rubbing his knuckles. "I just want to help."

"What are you?" she blurted, holding out the pliers in an effort to fend him off.

Riddick towered over her, rain washing away the thick ash and smell of sewer that cloaked the man beneath. He leaned down, forgetting how many years had passed for him and how few has passed for her. "It's me, don't you recognize me?"

"My mother told me not to talk to strangers."

"Stranger," he said, seeing the fear in her eyes. "I'm not a stranger. It's me."

"Get away!" she shouted, swinging her pliers.

He had to think quick, to improvise a plan that would help her calm down. "My name is Mr. Paloteri, your mother had to work late. She asked me to check on you and your brother. When I learned you'd come to the pharmacy, I came to give you a ride home."

Breanna was a smart kid, she thought for a moment and asked, "Well, if you met my brother, what's his name?"

"Martin," Riddick said, holding out his hand to help her up. "Your brother's name is Martin."

A cackle came from the rear of the alley and a voice echoed, "The master said, the Riddick would come for the mother of evil."

"You're a Necro." he said, remembering his encounter with Lord Marshal Zhylaw. "Only Necro scum call me, the Riddick."

"The master is no Necro scum." the old man replied from the darkest recesses of the alley.

"There all scum to me."

"Did you tell the little cow her mommy is dead?" the old man asked.

Breanna stared at Riddick, mouth open in shock, tears forming in her eyes. "Is it true?" she asked. "Is my mommy dead?"

He didn't want to answer, he could fell the energy rising up inside and forced his anger back down. Then Riddick remembered the shooter on the roof. "She's fine." He said, wanting to explain but not really understanding what was happening himself.

"Did the Riddick tell you, he left your precious mommy lying in a puddle of muddy water, blood pouring from her eyes?"

Breanna looked up, tears streaming down her red cheeks overwhelmed by the image playing with her mind.

"Did he tell you, it was his fault?"

Breanna's scream was a mixture of horror and rage.

He grabbed her around the waist holding on until she was still. "I didn't kill your mother." Riddick said, peering down the long narrow alley wanting to throttle the old man and the thing chasing him. "It's a lie."

The old man leapt from the shadows knocking Riddick off balance as Breanna landed face down. The old man jumped into the air, dagger ready to plunge it into Breanna, but Riddick threw himself on top of her as the blade came down.

The old man crouched over Riddick, forcing the dagger through the meat of his stomach into the soft organs below. Riddick grimaced in pain as torrents of blue blood gushed from his mouth staining his teeth.

The old man smiled down and said, "The cow dies next."

Riddick grabbed the pliers lying beside him, struck the old man in the bridge of the nose and felt a stream of blood cover his face. The old man rolled off in a heap of whimpering wales and fled into the alley, once more.

"Rick," Breanna said, sitting on her backside with her back against the alley wall. Her knees were pulled to her chin and her arms were wrapped around them in terror. "What's going on? Where am I?"

Riddick lay in a pool of his own blood, holding the dagger still as he fought the urge to pass out. "What did you say?" he asked, looking at Breanna as if unsure of what he'd heard.

"Where am I?" she asked, picking up the pliers.

"Is it really you?" he asked, sitting up expelling clotted blood from his mouth as a wince of pain contorted his features.

Breanna stared at the hilt protruding form his stomach and jumped up tearing off the bottom four inches of her dress. She knelt down in front of him dressing the wound and peering around in utter confusion. "They told me you were dead." She said, wrapping the cloth around his waist.

"Dead." he said to himself.

"Shit." she continued, staring around the alley. "is this a dream?"

"Who told you I was dead." He asked, thinking that Martin had told her, he was dead to keep her safe. Riddick didn't bear a grudge, Martin had done the right thing. Then, 2 things hit him at once. Breanna was still alive and Martin knew she would be the one to tell him.

"Martin said the company had done you in." she answered, sliding the pliers back into the pocket in the front of her skirt.

He reached out to touch her cheek, but she jerked away looking as if he wasn't supposed to be there. "Why are you here? You're not supposed to be in my dreams."

"I'm here, because this isn't a dream." he said, touching her face to let her know he was real. "We're on Helion 4, the night your mother died."

"If that's true, why aren't you a boy." She thought out loud, mouth falling open as the color drained from her face. "You're a man." She felt her body all over unable to rationalize what was happening and added, "And I'm a little girl. None of this makes sense."

Before Riddick could try to explain, the old man grabbed Breanna from behind and said, "Try anything funny and I'll snap her neck like a twig."

"Let go!" she shouted, trying to tear herself away from his grasp.

The old man lifted Breanna off her feet, wriggling like a fish out of water and said, "Stop moving." She kicked him in the shin and tried striking him in the face with the back of her head until the old man squeezed her chest hard enough to push the air from her lungs. "Now stop," he commanded.

"Hurt her and I'll…"

"You'll what?" the old man interrupted, kicking dirty water in his face. "Get up." The old man added, scowling down at Riddick as he twisted Breanna's chin until she cried out in pain. "Now."

Riddick pulled himself to his feet gagging on blood and bile. "Don't hurt her. She's just a kid."

"She is the mother of evil." He replied, pointing at Riddick's stomach. "Now give it to me. These things must be done properly."

Riddick knew what the old man meant, but his tone made Riddick angry. "Give you what?"

"The blade," the old man answered, twisting Breanna's neck again. "Give me the blade."

"All right," Riddick said, pulling the blade from his abdomen as a scream of pain pierced the night sky. He held the dagger out, hand trembling as neon blood dripped from the tip.

"Do you recognize it?" the old man asked. "He wanted me to give it back. Said it was yours."

Riddick didn't study the knife, he knew it was the dagger he had broken off in Lord Marshal Zhylaw's skull. "I see you improved the balance."

"Not me." The old man replied, pulling Breanna close. "That was the father of all."

"Father of all, the master, how many names does he go by?"

The old man placed his mouth near Breanna's ear staring at Riddick and added, "There is still so much the Riddick doesn't understand."

"Then tell me."

"No. Not my place." The old man replied, loosening his grip on the girl. "But rest assured, all will make itself known in due time."

"Due time is now!"

"You will soon learn," he replied, waving his hand around at nothing. "Time is far more flexible than you believe."

"I'm learning that." Riddick admitted. "But you and your master should know, time is running out. I will find your master."

The old man laughed at him. "You say that as if it hasn't been the plan all along." He gestured to the blade at Breanna's feet and said, "Pick it up."

As Breanna bent down to retrieve the blade, she slid her hand inside her skirt pocket and winked up at Riddick. "Now!" she shouted, jamming the pliers into the old man's left knee as Riddick leapt forward, striking him in the cheek just below his right eye. The old man's head slammed into the brick wall as a dull thwack filled the damp night air, he slid down the wall slumping into a sitting position with his face between his knees.

Riddick fell to the ground holding his abdomen as blue blood oozed through his dirty fingers. Breanna rushed to his side and asked, "What can I do?"

"Nothing," Riddick replied, forcing himself back on his feet. "I'll be all right soon enough. It's you I'm worried about."

"Me," Breanna said, wondering what he meant. After all, the old man was unconscious, Martin was safe at home and her mother was… Her mouth dropped open as the realization that her mother may be dead. Where would they live? Who would take care of them? And why didn't she feel anything about her mother's death?

A shrill whistle blew in the near distance as two policemen ran in the alley at breakneck speed. Their blazing flashlights scaring away the shadows as they approached sidearms at tbe ready. Riddick was glad the majority of the police force was in the zone; their absence would make his escape easier.

"Go!" Breanna shouted as the men quickly closed the distance.

"I need to tell you something."

"There's no time," Breanna said, cutting him off as the flashlights came closer.

Riddick ran into the nearby corner, sank in the darkness pressing his back against the wet brick and watched in silence. The two Dyna Corp Security cops stopped by Breanna shining their lights around trying to locate the figure they had seen run into the shadows. "Where did he go?" the officer asked, shining his light in her eyes.

Breanna covered her eyes with one hand and pointed at the old man with the other. She was weeping now, the adrenaline was leaving her body.

"No!" the officer shouted, shining his light in her face again. "The other guy, where'd the other guy go?"

"I only saw him." Breanna said, staring around at the scene in complete confusion. The voice of the woman had gone; the little girl's had returned.

"Where is he?" the officer asked.

"Give it a rest, Brice." The other officer warned. "She's just a kid."

Riddick stared from the shadows less than ten feet away wondering why no one saw him. At one point, he actually reached out and waved in their faces. But no one could see him while he was in the shadows.

A third man walked into the alley. He was an average size man wearing an expensive suit; to expensive for a DynaCorp detective. As the man approached Riddick felt a strange sense of the familiar. He was sure he knew him too. Although, he couldn't make out his face.

The man walked right passed Breanna, in between the two officer and stopped a few feet short of the black corner staring into the darkness. The two officers looked from him to each other with odd expressions.

"What are you doing here?" Brice asked, shining his light on the man's back. The added light only served to further cast the man's features in shadow.

"I came to collect the girl." He said, in a thick Spanish accent. The man took a small box from his inside jacket pocket. He removed his jacket, tossed it to Brice and said, "Here, put this on her, she looks cold."

Riddick thought about Martin's story of the Dyna Corp detective that had delivered him and Bree to the orphanage.

The other officer said, "Why would the home office send someone like you? What's so special about her?"

The man never turned from the shadow it was as if he were speaking to Riddick. "We have it on good authority a team of Necromongers were here looking to abduct the girl and her brother."

"Whose authority?" Brice replied, placing the jacket over Breanna's shoulders.

"The kind above your paygrade."

"Since when does Wit. Sec. give a shit about two kids way out here?"

"They're important." The man replied, opening a pack of smokes and placing a cigarette between his lips. He flicked a lighter and as the flame drew nearer to the end of the cigarette it illuminated his face. He looked Riddick straight in the eyes and winked.

"Santana," Riddick said, stepping away from the wall. "son of a–"

"It's not your time." A raspy voice cut Riddick off, as the smell of rotting flesh crept up from behind. Something reached out from the darkness behind Riddick, coiled its long withered arms around his wide chest and dragged him into the darkness.

Santana stepped forward, removing a syringe from his pants pocket and said, "Hold him still."

Riddick struggled to free himself but the figure standing behind him held him fast as Samtana pushed Riddick's chin to the side and jammed the syringe deep in his neck. As Santana drew the plumger back filling the syringe with blood he said, "I know a little boy who will thank you for this one day."

"You son of a bitch." Riddick said, pulling his face out of the shadows.

Santana smiled, his eyes refecting Riddick's eyeshine. "If you'd actually learned to use those impressive eyes, you'd know I'm no one's son at all."

The arms wrapped around him hauled him deep into the darkness and he tumbled through the void, falling deeper into a funk and murk that even his eyes could not penetrate.

A pin point of light broke through the vale growing larger until it was all around him. Riddick heard the sounds of weapons fire, tasted blood in his mouth and felt a cool rain washing the ash from his burning hot skin.

A woman hung on a repel line above him holding an empty harness. She slid into his lap, looped the harness around his waist and gave a thumbs up sign.

"Dahl." Riddick said, staring up, blue eyes reflecting his disbelief. "Is that you?"

She stared into his eyes as the blue flicker faded away. "What's wrong with your eyes?" she asked.

He could feel the energy in his body slipping away. His new abilities were fading, he was becoming normal. "It's a long story." he said, wrapping his arms around her.

"I wanted to ask you some-"

"Yes." He interrupted. "I like you too."

"How could you know?" she said, holding him in her arms.

"Like I said. Long story."


	17. Chapter 17 Choices

**Chapter 16**

 **Choices**

 **Not Furya / 3 days after Riddick's escape with Johns, Dahl and Luna**

"He's only been aboard three days." Johns called in through the opening med-bay door as Dahl stormed in wearing an angry expression signaling they had been arguing. "It's not natural!" Johns shouted, as the door closed between them.

"He doesn't believe me, does he?" Riddick said, watching Dahl place a tray of fresh bandages on a table beside his cot.

"Can you blame him?" she replied, looking back at the closed door. Dahl moved to his side, bent over and began unwrapping the bandage around his waist. "I need to change your bandage."

Riddick touched Dahl's hand far to gently and she immediately thought this man can't be a monster. His touch turned to a caress and he said, "It's fine."

"I'll tell you when it's fine."

"You know I'm not lying."

"That's what scares me." She replied, unwinding the gauze around his abdomen. "I do. But you have to see it from Johns' point of view."

"Do I?"

She slapped his hand away and said, "Other than a piece of blue cloth and a wild story, you have no real proof."

He reached out, touched her hand again and replied, "And you know this isn't about proof; it's about belief."

She studied the worry spreading across his face and said, "Why does it matter what I believe?" Dahl gestured to the closed door. "What anyone believes."

"It matters." he replied, holding her hand in his. "It has for quite a while."

"See," Dahl replied, yanking her hand away. "That's the problem, we only met three days ago and you act like we've known each other for years."

"For you it's been three days," Riddick said, taking her hand again. "But for me, it's been two years."

"There," Dahl said, frowning at Riddick. "That's why Johns won't believe you. You say that as if it's normal, as if people just move through time at will."

"It isn't normal." he replied in a tone giving credence to the worry and truth in his words. "But it happened, anyhow."

"How?"

"I don't know," he snapped. "First I was there and now I'm here."

"Not possible!"

"But true."

"I believe you think it is."

"If I took this ship back in time 5,000 years, what would people think?"

"That you're a god or an angel, or maybe a demon."

"And the ship?"

"I suppose they'd think it was magic."

Riddick laughed to himself and said, "The difference between normal and magic is perception."

"So, everything is illusion?"

"Illusion is what happens when only one person knows what's going on." Riddick explained, with a foreboding look. "Just because we don't understand something, doesn't mean it can't happen."

"Fine. Make me understand why you know me?"

Riddick laughed and said, "I'll do that, when you tell me if you believe me."

"I believe you." Dahl admitted, gesturing to the door. "We both do."

"Both," Riddick repeated, offering her a playful frown.

"Yes. Johns does too."

"Him," Riddick said, followed by a short laugh. "Not in a million years."

"There's a difference between not believing and not wanting to admit the possibility your story maybe true."

The door opened and Johns and Luna walked in talking about the tests they had been running for the last 3 days. "It's not possible," Luna said, placing a hand over the bible in his upper left pocket. "I know where…"

"The science doesn't lie, kid." Johns interrupted. He gestured for Luna to go stand over by the monitor on the wall. "The facts are irrefutable."

"What facts?" Riddick asked, letting go of Dahls' hand when Johns noticed.

"Nice," Dahl said, removing the bandage from around Riddick's stomach. She examined the wound and gestured for Johns to come take a look.

Johns looked between them, his obvious displeasure at their attraction coming to the surface. "Healed my ass," Johns thought out loud. "It's gone all together; there isn't even a scar."

"Looks like we won't be needing these anymore." Dahl said, taking the tray of bandages away.

"I checked your DNA." Johns admitted matter-of-factly. "I wanted to corroborate the data you said Martin showed you."

"So now I'm a liar and a killer."

Johns studied him for a quick moment and said, "I would call you many things, but liar isn't one of them."

"That warms my heart, uncle Johns."

Johns turned to Dahl and asked, "Is there a specific reason you shared that information? Does he need to know everything?"

"I didn't tell him anything." Dahl replied, slamming the tray down. "Why do you always have to assume the worst?"

Before Johns could reply, Riddick said, "In her defense, Dahl didn't tell me anything."

"See," she blurted, casting a heated frown at Johns.

"At least, not yet."

"Not yet." Johns said, turning to her with a frown of his own. "So, you're implying she will tell you our history in the future?"

Riddick turned to Dahl and said, "I suppose this is the part where I answer your question."

"What question?" Johns asked.

"How I know the things I do. Kid," Riddick said, pointing at Luna. "There's a 5 drawer storage locker in the next compartment. Go get it and bring it in here."

Luna looked at Johns as if he didn't know what Riddick was talking about. "Storage locker?"

"It's beside the ammo locker on the portside bulkhead." Riddick explained. "Don't worry, its on wheels. You can roll it right in."

Johns nodded at the door and said, "Go get it. I want to see what this is all about."

Luna left the room and after a few minutes came back pushing the waist high locker. "Is this it?" Luna asked, trying to open the locked drawers.

Riddick nodded and said, "There's a control panel on upper right-side. The access code is 437 B81 - 4."

Luna shook his head and said, "It's not my fault, I had him under 24 hour surveillance the entire time. I'm sure he never left this room."

"Not this time," Riddick said, motioning for Luna to pull up the lockers inventory history.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Riddick recited the entire locker inventory drawer by drawer, line by line and item by item. "Listen up kids, unless someone can explain how I did that having never left this room, then the time has come to admit something is happening that none of us understands."

"All right," Johns said, looking to Luna and Dahl to see if they agreed. "Lets just say you're right. How about you help us make sense of all this nonsense."

"Because I'm the guy to answer those questions." Riddick replied with a frown.

"You are all we have."

"Just tell me what you learned, over the last 3 days." Riddick said, pulling down his t-shirt.

Luna walked to a monitor on the wall, brought up an image of Riddick's blood work, gestured to the screen and explained, "Martin wasn't lying, every system in your body has been significantly altered."

"Shit." Riddick thought aloud. "I'd hoped it was bullshit."

"Me too," Johns replied.

"See," Riddick said, turning to Dahl. "Uncle Johns didn't believe me, he thought I was lying."

"I don't know what I was thinking," Johns explained, "But I know it wasn't this." Johns switched off the monitor staring into his own reflection in the darkness.

"What's wrong?" Dahl asked, sensing his unrest.

"Everybody get out," Johns ordered, gesturing between himself and Riddick. "We need to have a private conversation."

Dahl stared between them and said, "Like hell."

Johns grabbed her left arm and shouted, "As long as you're part of my crew, you'll follow my orders!"

She stared furiously, ready to blow at any second and yanked her arm away. "That's not fair. I'm no child."

Riddick coughed loudly, interrupting her tirade. "Trouble in paradise?"

Dahl kicked a chair across the room and Luna vaulted over the back barely managing to stay upright.

"Hey!" Luna shouted, glaring at Dahl.

"Why can't you be more like your sister?" Johns said, looking to Luna to see if he had anything more to say.

"Seriously," Dahl replied as the blazing scarlet in her cheeks spoke volumes. "How many times do I have to tell you, Tahlia has her perfect little fairytale life and I have mine."

"This is no life!" Johns shouted. "You deserve better; you can have better."

"If it's good enough for you!"

"Not after today." Johns said, retrieving the chair. "I'm done with this. I've already lost one family and I'm going home to learn I've lost a second. If I still have a wife to go home too."

"You know she's there. She'll always be there."

Johns pointed to the door and replied, "Just give us a few minutes. Please."

As Luna and Dahl exited the room, Dahl turned back to Johns and asked, "You wouldn't leave me out here by myself?"

"No," Johns answered as the door closed. "I wouldn't"

After the door closed Riddick asked, "What are you really after?"

"I didn't come after you for the death of my son."

"It seemed like it to me."

"Heat of the moment guilt." Johns admitted.

"Guilt?"

Johns withdrew a billfold from his pants pocket, removed an I.D. card and handed it to Riddick.

Riddick read it aloud, "Colonel Nathanael Johns, Central Security Services, 1st Division, Company Rangers, Sigma 3."

"Beginning to understand?"

"You son of a bitch." Riddick said, handing the I.D. back. "You always struck me as a little to gung-ho."

"And you're not?"

"I hate those fuckers."

"And yet, those fuckers, as you call them, made you the soldier you are today."

"I used to believe that. But now, I think someone else made me what I am."

"Your hidden benefactor may have given you certain upgrades." Johns said, slipping the I.D. back in his billfold. "But the only reason you've survived this long is because of the tactics your Ranger brothers taught you. To say otherwise is a lie."

"The only thing my brothers taught me was that people can't be trusted."

"Really," Johns replied, taking out a grey data pad from a drawer beneath the monitor. He showed it to Riddick and added, "What about Martin? You say your brother gave his life to help you escape. Could he be trusted?"

"Where did you get this?" Riddick asked, taking the data pad from Johns.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"This was destroyed?" Riddick said, realizing the data pad was from the future. "You shouldn't have this. It's not possible."

"I've had that data pad for years." Johns said, gesturing for Riddick to join him at a nearby table. "And what I believe you meant to say, is this data pad will be destroyed."

"You do believe me, but why give it to you?"

"The three of us have a common interest."

"What interest?"

"What do all men have in common. The love a woman."

"What woman?"

"The same woman."

"Speak plain Johns." Riddick said, in a tone that breathed life into an unspoken threat.

"You want honesty."

"Honesty," Riddick said, laughing to himself. "There's only half truths and misdirection."

"For weaker men perhaps." Johns admitted. "But not for men like us, we need to set our record straight."

"Our record?"

"We share much of the same history, you and I."

"Doubtful."

"We do." Johns replied, watching Riddick look around the room as if searching for a way out. "You wouldn't have liked me when I was in the Rangers." Johns said, sliding his I.D. back in his billfold.

"What makes you think I like you now?"

"You can be a real dick."

"So I've heard."


	18. Chapter 18 The Ultimatum

**Chapter 17**

 **The Ultimatum**

 **Sigma 3 / Many years before / 6 days before Riddick's incarceration the Ranger Deep storage facility**

The bartender lifted Johns' head off the counter, snapped his fingers in front of his face and asked, "Had enough yet, soldier boy?"

Johns moaned incoherently and the portly bartender dropped his head on the counter with a thud. The customary noise caught the bouncer's attention who strolled over to check Johns. The giant doorman poked Johns in the shoulder sharply to see if he would rouse, but there was no reaction.

"Get soldier boy out of here before he pukes on the bar again." the bartender said, taking away the dozen empty shot glasses stacked in front of Johns like a pyramid. The partially bald bartender came back with a bar rag and wiped away the empty peanut shells strewn across the bar top. "Now." he added, gesturing towards the rear door.

"You could stop serving the ridiculous fucker before he gets like this." the bouncer replied, frowning at the bartender as he lifted Johns from the stool.

"I could," the bartender replied, pinging an empty shell at the bouncer. "But then how would I pay your salary."

"Nice."

"No," the bartender warned. "Business." The sloppy bartender gestured around the room at all the drooping heads and added, "If everyone gets drunk, you have a purpose. If not, I don't need you. So, keep quiet and do what I pay you too. Take out the trash."

No one paid any attention to the giant standing at the bar with a drunk slung over his shoulder. The spectacle was a nightly ritual at the battle grounds. Drunks walked in; drunks were carried out.

"Just get him out."

"Fine," the bouncer said, heading towards the rear exit.

"Good riddance." The bartender muttered to himself, wiping the slobber off the bar top with a grin. "Hurry back soon."

"You can sleep it off out here, Johns." the bouncer said, laying Johns on a pallet of old broken down cardboard boxes. Johns moaned in protest and the bouncer said, "If you're sick of sleeping out here, get your sorry ass off the ground and go home to your wife and kid."

"Fuck you." Johns mumbled, vomiting over the edge of the pallet. The stench of alcohol and stomach acid wafted through the air like someone set off a pepper spray grenade.

The bouncer gagged, cleared his throat and shook his head in disgust. "You come here every night, drink yourself stupid and then sleep it off out here in the alley. What's your deal Johns?"

"Go away."

The bartender stopped in the open doorway, looked back and added, "Go home Johns, before it's too late."

But Johns had already passed out the same way he did every night before the warning reached his brain. Although, even if it had, he would have still slept peacefully knowing his family didn't mind the absence. At least, he wasn't home using them as punching bags or starting fights as an excuse to go get drunk again.

"Get up!" a deep voice commanded, kicking the pile of soggy vomit soaked cardboard Johns was lying on.

Johns right eye flickered partially open, the light blazing in the sky above burned a hole through his head as the marching band blaring in his ears turned his face beet red. "What?" he said, covering his face from the light. "Can't a guy get a little shut eye?"

"It's 11:00AM, you missed revelry again, asshole." The broad shouldered figure said, kicking the pile again.

"That's Colonel Asshole, to you soldier." Johns replied, forcing himself Into a sitting position as the contents of his roiling stomach hit the roof of his mouth. He spit a gob of bile on the ground beside the pallets and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

The soldier standing over him waved his hand in front if his own face and said, "God dammit, did you shit your fuckin' pants."

"That's, did you shit your fuckin' pants, Sir." Johns replied, trying to stand up, but failing spectacularly.

The soldier reached down, grabbed him by the back of the collar with one giant hand and hauled him into a standing position. "Listen, Colonel Asshole. I have real soldiers who need my help getting ready for a mission. So, I don't have time to waste on your pathetic addictions."

"Who are you?" Johns asked, choking down a second eruption of vomit.

"I'm Major Fry."

"What do you want, Fry?"

"The brass sent me to deliver a message." Fry replied, straightening out Johns' disheveled uniform like he was correcting a child.

Johns pushed his hands away and said, "Get off."

Fry stuffed a white envelope in Johns' shirt pocket and said, "You are hereby ordered to report to headquarters tomorrow morning at 9AM for a misconduct hearing." He waved his hand in Johns face and warned, "I suggest, you use the time to clean your ass and be on time."

"You're Alpha company's new commander, aren't you?" Johns asked, only barely holding himself upright. "I've heard of you. I hear you're an ass-kisser."

Major Fry drew him closer, almost touching his nose to Johns' and said, "If by ass-kisser, you mean someone who still gives a shit about his men, the Rangers and our mission, then yes, I most certainly am an ass-kisser."

"Why are you here… today?"

"The commanders thought you might need a little time before reporting for duty."

"How thoughtful."

"Take the gesture as a sign of respect." Fry said, releasing his grip.

"Respect… What would those bastards know of…"

"Apparently, more than you," Fry said, interrupting the oncoming tirade. He slammed a thick finger in Johns' chest almost knocking him over. "One last thing before I leave you to it, call it another act of professional curtesy, you should go find whatever's left of the soldier you used to be. Because if this is going to end well for you, you'll need him tomorrow."

"Fuck you."

"No need, Colonel Asshole." Fry said, turning to walk away. "You already fucked yourself."

By the time Johns reached his front porch, the midday heat had drawn a sticky syrup of 150 proof sweat threw his rumpled uniform like puss through a seeping bandage. Johns' head was pounding, his tongue was as dry as baked sandpaper and the sky spun overhead like it was like a vulture waiting for him to drop.

He fumbled at his front door trying to remove his keys from his pants pocket only to drop them on the door stoop. "Dammit," he muttered, bending down to pick them up as the door reached out and hit him in the forehead. He went down on one knee staring through the mail slot at the bare room inside and felt his stomach knot. The knob turned, the door was unlocked; the door was never unlocked. It swung inward by itself. No one was home; he was all alone peering around the empty house trying to recall happier times. But there were none.

"Goddammit," Johns said, wanting to get angry. But the little voice murmuring in his ear made certain he knew the fault for them leaving was his and his alone. Johns' family had fled their captor; washed away on a tide of alcohol addiction, mental cruelty and physical abuse.

He walked into the kitchen shielding his eyes from the morning light glaring through the window above the sink. The window was bare; the curtains, rods and hangers were gone just like his chance to be a good father or decent husband.

Johns yanked the refrigerator open, saw a handful of old empty beer bottles sitting on an 8"x11" manila envelope marked: Raymond and yanked the packet out tearing the top edge off.

"Shit," he muttered to himself, readying himself to feel the sting of the venom inside. "She finally did it." he said, as the envelope hit the floor, spilling its contents beneath the refrigerator. The cover page was partially exposed. It read; Sewing for divorce.

The icebox door was partially open, its cool air soothed his aching head and the half empty whiskey bottle peeking out beaconed from inside. "She even took the ice trays." Johns said, taking out the bottle and spinning off the cap. He downed the bottle and hurled it across the room. It smashed against the bedroom door.

He took out his billfold, removed his I.D. card and tossed it on the counter. "Fuck it," he said to himself. Johns peered around the empty room, placed the envelope Major Fry had given him beside the I.D. and left through the front door without closing it behind him.

Six days later, Johns was arrested at the 'Battle Grounds,' and transported to a Ranger detention center awaiting administrative punishment. His apprehension was anything but exciting, he was passed out on a barstool. The bartender sent an outstanding bar tab to Ranger command; it was never paid.

…..

"How does any of that have to do with me?" Riddick asked, as Johns sat across the table staring into his palms. "What aren't you telling me, Johns?"

"I told you the cause. But I haven't told you the effect," Johns replied. "My decision to defy Command, to not report for disciplinary review was the single reason that linked our stories forever."

"I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"Not in the least."

…

Johns sat at a long table, clad in a dark grey jumpsuit with numbers over his right breast pocket. He was in a large court room next to an female officer dressed in formal military attire.

"All rise," Master Sergeant Tomme' said, motioning for Johns and his counsel to get up.

Five generals walked in through a large wooden doorway in the back corner and took their seats at the head of the room. The officer in the center lifted a paper and read: "Colonel Raymond Johns, you are hereby formally charged with conduct unbefitting an officer, failure to report for duty on numerous occasion and failure to surrender yourself for disciplinary review. How plead you?"

"Not guilty, your honor." The officer at his side replied.

The general lowered the paper, sat back in his seat and studied Johns for a moment. The room was as silent as the chasm of space. No one said a word. "I'm glad to hear that Raymond. I'd hoped you'd at least make this fun."

"Glad I didn't disappoint."

"Sir!" the female officer shouted. "That is inappropriate."

"Perhaps, counselor," the officer replied, setting forward. "But your clients plea allows the tribunal to take a different tact."

"Different tact, your honor." Johns counselor repeated, looking at her client. "What does that mean?"

"It means, you may leave the courtroom counselor. The tribunal members would like to address the Colonel in private." The general said, gesturing for MS Tomme' to escort her from the room.

"I respectfully decline, your honor." Johns counsel replied, standing up. "My client has rights under Article…"

"Enough," the general said, rudely cutting her off. "We need to discuss matters of the highest secrecy. Therefore, you will step out of the room until we have finished."

"Your honor, if you force me to leave, I will have no choice but file a formal complaint for mistrial."

"Yes. Yes. I'm certain you will, counselor. But leave you will, nonetheless." The general commanded, waving her off dismissively. "Master Sergeant Tomme', please escort the counselor from the room and wait outside until we call you in."

"Yes, General Morrissey." MS Tomme' replied, taking the counselor by the elbow and forcefully ushering her outside.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Raymond?" General Morrissey asked.

Johns stared back in disbelief and said, "Thanks for the mistrial."

"Your welcome." General Holcombe said, sitting forward in his seat.

"As it happens, Raymond." Morrissey began, leaning forward in his seat too. "A rather sticky problem has arisen and we think you're just the man to clean it up."

"By just the man, I suspect you mean, the guy between a rock and a hard place?"

"It appears you were right, Arthur." General Jenson interjected. "The Colonel can see the big picture, after all."

"Or at least, his part of it." General Holcombe added.

Johns was no fool. He knew they could put him away and no one would do anything to get him out. But still, Johns didn't like being manipulated.

"Any questions thus far?" the general asked.

"No, Sir." He said, looking at all the members. "I believe my options are quite clear."

"Good." General Jenson said, frowning at him. "We wouldn't want any misunderstandings, would we, Colonel Johns?"

"No Sir. Not at all."

"A number of highly sensitive documents have been copied in recent days." General Morrissey began.

"Copied without authorization." General Holcombe added.

"And we would like you to lead the team that retrieves or destroys those copies by any means necessary." General Jenson said.

"Any means"

"Is exactly what it sounds like." General Holcombe replied, in a voice sounding like liquid venom. "You are to retrieve said documents, destroy any unauthorized copies and eliminate any person or persons, who have seen, or may have seen, said documents. You will leave no witnesses of any kind or loose ends leading to the debacle unravelling around us."

"May have seen?" Johns replied. "You want me to eliminate innocent civilians that inadvertently came in contact with the documents in question?"

"We want you to follow orders Colonel." General Jenson said, slamming his fist on the desk. "Unless you want to spend the rest of your days tied to a chair in a room that make the seventh level of hell look like a goddamn theme park."

"Raymond," General Morrissey said, casting a warning expression at his threatening colleague. "These documents contain facts of the highest secret nature. If those documents were to get out it would be…" he paused to look around at the other members. "Bad for all."

"I wasn't refusing the operation, Sir. I was only asking for a clarification as to how far you want me to go." He replied, staring around the panel.

"As far as it takes." One of the members blurted. "There will be dire consequences if those documents are not secured immediately."

"I'm sure you have an idea who took them and where they are now?"

"We do." One of the other tribunal members replied. "Alpha Company's, first platoon leader made an unauthorized copy of a sensitive report and sent a copy to his home world."

Johns laughed and said, "I understand why you haven't approached Captain Fry with any of this?"

"The Captain is currently away on another assignment." General Holcombe replied. "He's in the Vega cluster relocating refugees."

"Refugees," Johns said to himself. "Nice touch."

"Watch your tone." General Holcombe warned.

"Just to clarify, you want me to locate your stolen documents on Commander Riddick's homeworld and eliminate anyone who may have seen your dirty little secrets and you think that's going to end well."

"Correct," one of the members replied. "Errors have been made; examples must be set and yes, if you do your part, all will end well."

"For you," one of the tribunal members added.

"Forgive my impudence. But I see a few flaws in the plan."

"Flaws," General Morrissey said.

"To retrieve said documents, you would have to tell me what was on them. That way I could make certain nothing of value was left behind by accident."

"Your point."

"My point is simple. If you are willing to kill anyone who may have seen them. Then why let me or my team live after you get what you want?"

"You're a clever man, Raymond." General Morrissey said.

"Maybe too clever." Jenson added.

"So, Raymond" Morrissey said. "What's it going to be?"


	19. Chapter 19 Intertwined

**Chapter 18**

 **Intertwined**

 **Johns' ship / Med Bay / High Orbit / Not Furya**

The anger in Riddick's body surged, adrenaline coursed through his body and the salt shaker in his hand shattered. Blood oozed from between his fingers, but there was no sign of transformation, no dimming of the lights or loss of control. His journey back in time had somehow disabled his powers. "You… it was you who killed my wife!"

"No." Johns replied, sitting very still as to not provoke him any further. "I didn't kill innocent women and children. But you can be assured they wanted me too."

"Why didn't you?"

"Contrary to your belief, not every merc is a blood thirsty opportunist?" Johns replied, staring him dead in the eyes.

"So… you say." Riddick replied, dropping the bloody bits of glass and salt on the table.

Johns went over to the tray Dahl had left on the counter, picked up a bottle of sterile water and a package of bandages, and delivered them to Riddick. "I may have been a drunk, but there are lines I won't cross. Not for money or self-preservation."

"Good for you." Riddick said, using a large gauze bandage to wipe the blood from his palm.

"Why did you take those files? You had to know it wouldn't make a difference."

"I wanted to make a difference."

"You wanted to please her."

"How could you know that?" Riddick demanded, standing up.

"I've learned a lot since those days."

"How long were you in?" Riddick asked, changing the subject.

"Six years," Johns answered, flicking the end of the knife and watching it spin like the hands of a clock. "Six years of much needed rehab and soul searching"

"Did it take?"

"Didn't have a choice." Johns replied. "And by the time they let me out, I'd come to terms with the fact that my incarceration was one of my own doing."

"Never tempted to drink again."

"Every damn day," Johns admitted. But I haven't had a drop since I got out."

"What's the first thing you did?"

"I went looking for answers."

"Answers?"

Johns studied Riddick for a moment trying to decide just how much he was going to tell him. "When you're in gen-pop the guards talk, inmates talk and stories go round."

"Yes they do." Riddick admitted, remembering the stories he'd started.

"I heard what they did to you and what you did in return."

"Is that a problem?"

"No. I don't have a problem." Johns stressed, shaking his head. "They got what they deserved. And, if you remember, I did warn them it wouldn't end well."

"Glad I could prove you right."

"Me too," Johns said, nodding politely. "The fuckers did take 6 years of my life."

"Why go looking for answers?"

"Because there were things I heard that just didn't add up." Johns said with a frown. "They had a myriad of opportunities to recover those documents without drawing any unwanted attention. Why create a spectacle?"

"That's a lot of effort to go to when it's easier to just kill someone." Riddick said, straining to remember the chain of events leading up to his escape from Deep Storage and his return to Sigma 3. "None of it makes sense."

"It does, if someone wanted you alive; if someone wanted you on the run." Johns answered.

"Who?"

"Whoever gave the order was outside the chain of command."

"Who can tell the brass what to do?"

"There's only one man with that kind of clout." Johns answered, pulling up a picture of Ginger. "And isn't it odd that the only man with that power is Sharon Montgomery's father? The 3rd wealthiest man in the universe and the CEO, and major stockholder in Dyna Corp Security. Aka, the senior controlling entity of the Company Rangers."

"I'm not buying it." Riddick replied with a frown. "I'm not even a blip on Montgomery's radar. Why would he go to all that trouble?"

"To keep you isolated." Johns explained. "A man alone is an easy target."

"First," Riddick replied, his expression darkening. "I'm no easy target and second, I like being alone."

"Be that as it may," Johns countered. "someone has gone to a great deal of effort to drive you towards the darkness."

"Why?"

"Who knows." He replied, shaking his head as a foreboding frown crossed his face. "But I do know, the man you are today, is a direct result of what began on Sigma 3."

"I knew something was wrong." Riddick said, peering through the portside observation window.

"You were right." Johns replied. "I've spent years separating fact from fantasy, myth from reality, and the more I learned, the more questions I found unanswered."

"Like what?"

"Like, half of what people think they know about you, is bullshit."

"I did what I could to create a little mystery."

"You did what you did because you have no more idea where you're from than anyone else has." Johns explained.

"Your point?"

"Before you arrived at the orphanage, you simply didn't exist." Johns answered. "And I know; I checked every data base I could find. There are no records of your parents, any siblings or even a birth certificate. You're a phantom born on a ghost world no one can find."

Riddick fidgeted in his seat and Johns knew he had hit a cord. Riddick had gone looking for answers and found nothing either. "I was found in a dumpster…"

"Horse shit," John said, cutting him off. "Half the stories you tell were feed to you by people who didn't want you asking questions. The other half are stories you created to keep mercs off your sent."

Riddick slammed his fist on the table and said, "Those stories are who I am."

"No," Johns said. "those stories are the adolescent fantasies of a pissed off kid who became a cornered animal."

"No one corners me."

"Someone has." Johns countered, spinning the data pad around. "You've been playing a game of chess and didn't realize it. This thing, whatever it is, has been driving you down a path you're not supposed to be on since the day you arrived at the orphanage"

"That's why I need to either get away or go settle up with the Necros."

"Not a good idea." Johns warned. "You have no idea who or what you're dealing with."

Riddick didn't say anything. He knew Johns was right.

Johns' right eyebrow pulled his face into a scowl. "I think you've sensed something was wrong long before Not Furya. And that's why you keep to yourself."

"I keep to myself because everyone who gets near me, ends up dead."

"And yet you still keep moving forward."

"It's all I know."

"And that's, why I came after you."

Riddick sat forward and said, "Looking for a fight?"

Johns ignored his invitation and said, "I didn't know you were alive until I saw your name on the Hunter Gratzner's passenger manifest. If I'd known you were alive, I would have done things differently."

"What are you talking about?" Riddick asked, massaging his throbbing hand. "How did you see the manifest?"

"I was listed as Will's next of kin." Johns replied. "The company had a legal obligation to notify his parents of his untimely demise. Even one like me."

"Shit." Riddick said. "That had to suck to find out that way."

"Guilt has a funny way of distorting the truth." Johns said. "Mine is that I was never a good dad. So, I told myself if I brought my son's killer to justice, it might make up for the times I wasn't there." He shrugged his wide shoulders and rolled his eyes.

Riddick smiled and asked, "How'd that go?"

"I weighed my options." John explained. "Do I kill you for defending a child; or do I save you from Santana, so you can help me kill the fuckers who murdered my stepdaughter?"

Riddick stared at him, mouth open and brows furrowed. "stepdaughter?"

"Like I said earlier, our stories are connected in ways you're not ready to believe." Johns replied.

"I am now."

"Fine," Johns said, turning the datapad around and pushing it closer to Riddick. "If you want to know why our stories are connected. Then this is why." He added, leaning forward and starting a short video.


	20. Chapter 20 The Hunter Gratzner

**Chapter 19**

 **The Hunter Gratzner**

 **M6-117 / many years after the crash**

The ship struck the atmosphere, buffeted violently and Dahl yelled into to her comms, "Moss, get your ass up here. We're entering the upper atmosphere."

Moss ran through the cargo hold door, hooked the toe of his boot on the hatch lip and bounced off the engineer's instrument console. "Dammit," Moss said, catching himself on the back of Lockspur's seat.

"What the hell were you doing back there?" Lockspur asked, frowning over his shoulder.

"Checking the weapons."

"Paranoid." Lockspur replied, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"I prefer to think of it as preparing."

Lockspur laughed, swiveled around in his seat and replied, "If you say so."

The nose cone of the ship lit up a bright orange, the light shone through the windscreen reflecting in Dahl's eyes. For a moment Lockspur thought she looked possessed. "Get strapped in, I need to slow our decent or were gonna burn up on entry." Dahl said to Moss.

"I hate this part!" Lockspur shouted, swiveling back around and grabbing the console in front of him.

Moss jumped in the engineer's seat, strapped himself in and performed a number of hasty calculations. "Decrease the ship's downward decent vector by 18°, that should bleed off enough speed to cool the outer hull."

Dahl looked over her shoulder at her wide-eyed comrade, yanked back sharply on the stick and watched as Lockspur's face contorted into a sickened grimace. The abrupt loss of speed lifted him out of his seat as if he were on an amusement park ride.

"He's gonna blow." Moss warned looking back over his shoulder with a grin.

Lockspur's mouth filled with bile as a sickly shade of pale green stretched across his features. He covered his mouth preventing a geyser of vomit from hitting the console.

"Really, do you have to do that every time?" Dahl laughed.

"No," Lockspur answered, forcing down the acid filling his mouth. "Not every time."

"That was fairly disgusting." Moss said, looking as if he might be ill too.

"You have no idea." Lockspur replied, spitting a multicolor gob of bile on the floor and wiping his chin with the back of his sleeve.

The red glow illuminating Dahl's face gave way to a bright blue sky. The worst was over, the ship flew steady as it passed smoothly through the thin air in the upper troposphere into the thicker air far below.

Moss jumped up without warning, ran out of the compartment without saying a word and returned a few moments later dragging three black duffle bags full of supplies with one hand and carrying an arm full of weapons in the other.

"Shit," Lockspur said with a forced smile. "You are paranoid."

"Just get suited up," Moss replied, tossing him the bag of armor and a weapon. "We're not going outside until everyone's ready."

"No one's going anywhere until we find what we came for." Dahl said, checking the instrument panel at her side. "Now, come up here and help me locate the crash site."

Moss set down in the seat on Dahl's right and began running a scan of the terrain below. "This could take a while." Moss warned, switching on a nearby scanner. "Company reports were sketchy at best."

"Just center your search around the mining facility." She said, staring at the telemetry readings in front of her. "The report indicated the survivors walked from the downed ship to the abandoned outpost in two hours."

"How far should I expand the search?"

"Shouldn't be far." She answered, staring out the side window. "If you account for difficult terrain, excessive environmental conditions and injuries sustained in the impact. I'd say, the survivors couldn't have traveled more than five kilometers."

Lockspur walked up between them, leaned forward holding the backs of their seats for stability staring out the windscreen. "Do you think the report was accurate?"

"Accurate about what?"

"The bioraptors."

"Only one way to tell." Moss said, looking at Dahl out of the corner of his eye. "As for me, I'm bringing everything I can carry. You can do whatever you'd like."

Dahl frowned at him and answered, "It's probably best if we prepare for anything."

Lockspur strained to get a look at the terrain far below and asked, "Anything?"

"Anything." She stressed, nodding as she looked at Moss through the corner of her eye.

Moss tilted his head in her direction, smirked at Lockspur and said, "Do you think Johns is enjoying Sol Lucia?"

"Shut up, Moss." She said, glaring as if wanting to punch him in the face. "You know why Johns went."

"Still seems like convenient timing." Moss muttered.

"Fuck off." Dahl snapped. "When the lady in black calls, he goes."

"That's what bothers me.'" Lockspur interjected. "His loyalties lie with the so-called, Lady in black."

"She is his mother."

"She's the fucking Dark Athena."

"That's superstitious nonsense." Dahl said, turning to face him. "There's no such person."

"What do you think people would say if they knew Johns' mother was the Dark Athena?" Moss asked.

"Cut the shit," Dahl interjected, with furrowed brows. "Those are just bullshit stories fabricated to frighten dumbasses."

"No there not." Lockspur replied. "I've seen what she can do for myself. And I'm telling you, that woman doesn't need word of mouth to frighten anyone."

Dahl patted him on the shoulder and said, "You're superstitious, Carlos."

"That doesn't mean there isn't something off about her." Lockspur replied.

"That's an understatement." Moss said, peering down at an instruments cluster. "The wreckage is twenty degrees off the starboard side. Here," he added, tapping the console in front of him. "I entered the coordinates into the nav-system."

Dahl pitched the ship hard to the starboard, put the nose into a steep dive and said, "Hold on. I'm taking us down."

She circled the wreckage as Moss checked for signs of life on a nearby instrument cluster. When they were certain nothing was in the vicinity, Dahl set the ship down fifty meters west of the wreckage with the tailramp facing the crash site.

"Suit up," she instructed, walking to the rear of the ship, donning her equipment as she went along. Dahl paused by the ramp control and asked with a raised brow, "Is everyone ready?"

"Do we have a choice?" Lockspur asked, flipping the selector on his rifle to fire.

"Not if you want to get paid." She answered, initiating the ramp open sequence.

The three of them donned matching sunglasses as the light flooded the compartment. "Stay out of the shadows." Dahl said, stepping into the light of a trinary star system.

"There are no shadows on this God forsaken hell hole." Moss replied, stepping out behind her.

"There's always shadows." Lockspur warned.

"And where there are shadows…" Dahl began

"There is death." Moss finished.

Lockspur looked at Dahl, tapped the mic on his helmet. "Keep in touch."

"Affirmative," Dahl replied, walking down the ramp.

The ground was dry beneath their feet and the sound of crunching foot steps filled the intense silence like sirens beckoning to everything in earshot. The three suns hanging high above cast an eerie light that looked like a never ending camera flash.

Moss looked up at the handful of giant ringed planets in the sky and said, "That's something you don't see every day."

Lockspur stared at the enormous gas giant and said, "How is it there are a trillion systems in the universe and our target crashes in the M-344/G system hours before a celestial event that unleashes an entire planet of monsters."

"Just bad lucky I guess." Moss said.

"I don't think luck had anything to do with it." Lockspur replied.

"Now who's paranoid?" Dahl said.

"At least this rock is inhabitable."

"You call this inhabitable." Dahl said, kicking up a sand storm.

"I call it creepy." Lockspur said, spinning in a complete circle peering through his scope.

Lockspur and Moss turned to the left walking towards the front of the ship to access the damage and get a look inside the bridge. Dahl went to the right making her way towards the back of the vessel trying to locate an alternate route inside.

The nose of the ship was still intact, the only signs of damage was the lower hull had been ground off during touch down. "There doesn't appear to be very much damage up here." Moss said over the coms. He gestured to Lockspur, pointed at his own eyes and then gestured towards the horizon. Lockspur nodded, then turned towards the horizon scanning the area through his scope while Moss surveyed the wreckage with a handheld instrument pack.

"Anything out there?" Moss asked.

"Can't see anything," Lockspur said, stopping occasionally on a shadowy outcropping over the entrance into a dark cavern. "If there is something out there, it's not moving."

"What about thermal, can you see anything on thermal?" Dahl asked, walking out of sight around the back of the ship.

Lockspur switched his scope to thermal imagery and surveyed the terrain. "Nothing," he replied, switching his scope back to normal. "But that doesn't mean much."

"Why?" Moss asked, looking at the horizon through his Infrared scanner.

"Because there's a good chance our enemy is cold blooded." Lockspur explained, stopping on a single movement about 250 yards away.

"And if they are?"

"Then they'll be the same temperature as their surroundings."

"Fucking great." Moss complained, looking at Lockspur through the infrared scanner. "Monsters you can't see until they're right up your ass."

Something moved in the distance and Lockspur said, "Lady and Gentleman, I believe we have movement in the shadows about 250 yards out."

"You believe or you know?" Dahl asked, walking around the back corner of the ship and scanning the horizon through her scope.

"Can't tell. I have a shit line of sight."

"Not good enough."

"Here," Lockspur said, turning on the laser sight on his rifle. "I'll paint the area above the shadow and you tell me what you see."

Dahl used the side of the ship to steady her aim and saw Lockspur's laser reflecting off an outcropping of rocks above a large cavern. She peered into the darkness straining to separate fact from imagination.

"What is it?" Lockspur asked, turning off his laser sight.

"We definitely have company." Dahl said, lowering her rifle to her side. "I can't say how many are out there. But we're definitely not alone."

Moss lowered his scanner and said, "There's no sign of anything that may have brought the ship down. Whatever went wrong, didn't happen at this end."

"Get back here," Dahl instructed. "We need to recon the inside."

"On our way," Moss said, gesturing for Lockspur to follow him to the aft of the compartment.

Arriving at the rear hatch Lockspur and Moss found Dahl trying to pry open the door and warned, "Are you sure you want to do that. It could be pretty dark in there."

"Listen," Dahl replied, smashing at the access handle with the butt of her weapon. "We didn't come all the way out to the asshole of the universe just to turn tail and run."

"She's right." Moss said, nodding at her. "We came here for information and we can't leave without it."

"Ok," Lockspur countered, raising his weapon towards the hatch and flicking the selector to full auto. "That's your call. But don't go running around yanking doors open without back up."

"I'll be careful," Dahl interrupted, slowly opening the hatch.

Lockspur scowled at Moss and motioned for him to get his weapon up just as something slammed through the door sending Dahl flying backwards. It grabbed her midair, slammed her to the ground screaming in pain as the sunlight seared its greyish skin. It reeled up ready to strike a fatal blow and Lockspur opened up unloading his weapon into the beast as a shower of blue blood filled the air as if a bomb had gone off in its guts.

Dahl lay on her back, air knocked from her lungs and gasping for breath. She was helplessly pinned beneath the four hundred pound behemoth with her weapon lying ten feet away.

Lockspur walked over to her, stood glaring down in a mixture of rage and shock. "That's not my idea of being careful, princess." he said, kicking the beast wildly.

Dahl wiggled and squirmed trying to get out from beneath the creature. "Get it off me!" she shouted.

Before Lockspur could roll it off, Moss walked over and stepped on it preventing him from freeing her. "If you get your ass killed we're the ones who have to answer to Johns." He warned, scowling down at her.

Lockspur rolled it off and Dahl jumped up, and got in Moss' face. "What are you gonna do about it."

Moss handed her a cloth to wipe her face and said, "I'm going to tell uncle Johns you were stupid and careless, and that you not only, almost got yourself killed, but you nearly got us killed too."

Lockspur picked her rifle off the ground and handed it to her and added, "Then we're gonna sit back and watch while Johns throws you over his knee and spanks your ass like a spoiled little brat."

"Fuck you, assholes," Dahl raged, wiping the gobs of blue icher off her face.

"You're welcome," Lockspur said, laughing at her as she spit bits and pieces of the dead animal on the ground.

She made to move towards tbe door and Moss grabbed her by the arm and said, "No one is going anywhere with you smelling like a chum bucket."

"Let's head back to the ship." Lockspur said in an almost in audible whisper. "Before something else comes out to play."

"Are you crazy!" Dahl shouted, throwing the rag at his feet. "We're here now. Lets go inside."

"No." Moss said, gesturing for Lockspur to head back to the ship. "We don't have any idea how many of those things are in there."

"So?" she replied, scowling at him as if he were just messing with her.

"So," he said, kicking the carcass lying at her feet. "No eyes. These things are blind. That means they probably have heightened senses like hearing and smell."

"Fine." She said, walking around the carcass to follow Lockspur back towards the ship. "Lets go."

…..

"Then explain it." Lockspur said, as Dahl walked in the room drying her hair with a towel.

"Explain what?" she asked, setting the towel on a counter and combing out her hair.

Lockspur turned to Dahl and said, "If those things fry in light, how'd that thing get aboard the Hunter Gratzner wreckage"

"No idea."

He gestured towards a monitor depicting a network of underground tunnels. "Look here, its 250 yards from the closest tunnel exit. Nothing could have reached the ship from that distance."

"Unless," Dahl said, adjusting the image to show the terrain below the Hunter Gratzner. "There's an entrance beneath the wreckage."

"There," Moss said, tracing the main tunnel with his finger to a small line leading up into the wreckage. "Crafty little bastards dug a tunnel straight up through the bottom of the ship."

"That's just great," Lockspur interrupted. "Now, there's no way of knowing how many of those things could be in there."

"So," Dahl said, setting down in front of the monitor to formulate a mission strategy. "It's just another day in the ass end of nowhere."

Moss laughed to himself and said, "Seems like."

"We're not going in there!" Lockspur shouted at the monitor. "That's suicide!"

Moss patted him on the shoulder and said, "Now, whose being paranoid?"

"Cut the shit," Dahl snapped, pulling up a layout of the debris field. "We don't need to get in there. We only need to access the cockpit."

"But what about the black box? Its in the rear section of the front compartment and that's been compromised."

"To hell with the box." Moss replied, pointing to the back of the debris field. "It doesn't matter what happened during the crash. We're here to learn what brought that ship down."

"All right," Dahl said, gesturing for them to come closer. "Come and tell me what you think."

Lockspur walked over beside Dahl, leaned in towards the screen and asked, "What's the plan?"

"The ship's wreckage is scattered across a ten kilometer trench." Dahl said, dragging her finger across the screen. "If we begin by getting into the cockpit and retrieving the logs; we can fly back to the impact site, and assess the damage to the aft section."

"No need to confront any baddies." Moss replied, looking at Lockspur. "Sounds like a good plan."

"It's only a good plan," Lockspur warned. "If the aft section is still intact." Lockspur pointed at the front section and added, "If it's gone, we'll have to come back and go after the black box."

"Agreed," Dahl replied, shutting off the monitor. "Lets hope the tail section is still intact when we get there."

Lockspur rolled his eyes and nodded. "We're never gonna get paid."

Moss laughed and said, "Come on. Lets go."

…...

"Can you see anything?" Moss asked, staring up at Dahl who was standing on Lockspur's shoulders peering through the Hunter Gratzner's windscreen.

Dahl had both hands cupped against the 6 inch thick windscreen as if she were looking through a pair of googles. "This bridge is enormous."

Lockspur grimaced in pain as Dahl stepped on his collar bone. "Is it safe? Is there anything in there?" he demanded, pushing Dahl's foot back towards his shoulder.

"We're in luck," Dahl replied, looking down at him. "The access hatch is closed. The compartment is sealed off from the rest of the ship. I think it's clear."

"Is it clear or isn't it clear?"

"95% sure." Dahl said, shrugging her shoulders.

Dahl watched Moss' mouth fall open, his eyes widened and weapon hit his shoulder. She turned back to the window and came face to face with the snout of a giant beast. Its razor sharp teeth dripping a syrupy saliva that made her blood run cold. Dahl screamed, lurched back in horror and fell into Moss' arms.

"What the…!" she screamed, wriggling out of arms and throwing up her weapon ready to fire. Lockspur and Moss stood at her sides aiming up at the window, and Lockspur yelled, "I thought these things couldn't stand the light."

Moss and Dahl looked to one another and said, "They can't."

Lockspur looked at Dahl through the corner of his eye and said, "Well, someone forgot to tell that to this one."

The beast stood in the window staring out at them as if they weren't even there. Every so often, it would tap the glass with its snout and open its mouth as if screaming.

Moss lowered his weapon to his waste and said, "The glass is coated with a protective film that prevents UV rays from passing through. It must think its still in the dark."

"Put your weapon back up! The goddamn thing's right there." Lockspur shouted, taking a step backwards.

"It can't see us." Dahl said, swinging her weapon back over her shoulder. "Its blind and the glass is preventing it from seeing out."

"What's it doing?" Moss asked, lowering his weapon and studying it.

"I think it uses echolocation to see." Dahl explained, waving her hand at the glass. "The glass must be reflecting the waves back like a mirror reflecting light."

"You mean its seeing itself?"

"That's just great, "Lockspur said, lowering his weapon. "That things at least a thousand pounds. How do we get rid of it?"

"We need those logs." Moss said, shaking his head. "Any ideas?"

Dahl nodded and said, "I have an idea. But you're not going to like it."

"OK, It's settled." Moss replied, gesturing for Lockspur to get up on the front of the ship. "Lockspur can go in and get the log, and we'll wait out here."

"Wait. What?" Lockspur said as if he hadn't heard Moss right. "Fuck that shit. You go get it."

"Well, so much for your idea." Moss said to Dahl. "Any other bright ideas?"

"Finished." Dahl said, rolling her eyes.

"Sure." Moss replied. "But you heard him yourself, he won't go in there."

Dahl turned to Lockspur and said, "No one's going in there."

"You're goddamn right!"

"Its coming out here."

"What?" Moss and Lockspur said in unison.

"We need the ship's logs." Dahl explained. "And we can't access them while its in there. So, we'll have to lure it out here."

"And just how do you suggest we do that?" Lockspur asked, staring at Dahl wide eyed.

"If we fire at the windscreen we should be able to weaken it." Dahl replied, watching the creature tapping the glass. "With a little luck the animal will think its reflection is attacking and charge the glass."

"Smart," Moss replied, taking aim at the windscreen. "The animal knocks the glass out flooding the compartment with light."

"That's the idea," Dahl answered.

"And if the light doesn't put it down quickly enough?" Lockspur asked.

"Shoot a lot of bullets really-really-fast and when your out; runaway even faster." She replied, ushering him off to one side.

Moss stared over his sights, large beads of sweat running down his forehead and said, "Dahl, That glass is 6 inches thick."

"Then don't shoot the glass. Shoot the collar holding it in place." Dahl replied, signaling Lockspur to get ready to fire.

"Wait! Are you insane?" Lockspur replied, staring at the creature butting the glass even more aggressively. "It'll take every round we have to loosen that collar. If it gets out and we're empty…"

"Like I said," she interrupted, flipping her selector to fire. "Shoot first; run later."

"Its going to get out!" Lockspur shouted, looking over his shoulder at the lowered ramp in the distance. "And it might as well be a mile between us and the ship."

"You can always start running now." Moss said, frowning at Dahl as he flipped his selector to fire. "That way, when the glass falls out, you'll be the first thing it sees."

"Remember," Dahl said, looking at her comrades. "Target the collar and then get out of the way. That glass weighs a ton."

"Fire!" Dahl screamed, opening up on the housing.

Lockspur and Moss joined in at the same time, and rounds struck the housing sending a storm of sparks into the air. The beast reared up on its hind legs, slammed the glass with its snout and ran off, out of sight. The housing broke free, slid off the front of the ship and stuck in the arid soil 10 feet behind them.

"Did we scare it away?" Lockspur asked, looking at them as if he didn't understand why the thing hadn't jumped out.

The three of them inched closer holding their weapons at the ready trying to get a better view. But the bottom of the windshield was 7 feet above the ground and the more they approached the ship, the less they could see what was happening inside.

The trio stood with their backs to the ship's nose cone staring at one another and Moss blurted, "What now?"

"Someone's gonna have to look inside." Lockspur said, casting a raised brow at Dahl.

"Me!" she said.

"Your plan." Moss said. "You check."

"What about not wanting to tell Johns I'm dead?" She asked, glaring at him.

Lockspur leaned forward, looked around Dahl at Moss and said, "At least we'd still be alive to tell him."

"You dicks."

"Oh…for fuck sake." Lockspur said, leaning his rifle against the nose cone. "Take a knee."

"What!"

"Just shut up," he said, shoving her on the ground. "Put your right foot forward. I need a boost up."

"I'm not a ladder."

"Just help me up." He snapped. "Unless you'd like to check?"

Lockspur stepped on her thigh, used it as a step stool and crawled up the nose cone. He jammed his finger tips in the crack beneath the glass, placed his right foot on her shoulder and looked down with a smile.

Moss stared at Dahl trying to avoid the crotch jammed in her face and laughed.

"If you tell anyone about this I'll…"

"Shut the fuck up," Lockspur interrupted in a whisper, trying to peak over the edge at what was happening inside.

The whole ship began to vibrate and Lockspur fell backwards knocking Dahl to the ground with him. The glass flew outward, landed in the dirt 20 yards away with an enormous beast sliding on it like a surfer on a wave. It jumped off, spun around and screamed in agony as the light seared its thick hide.

"Shit," Moss said, yanking Dahl to her feet. "Shoot."

They threw up their rifles as Lockspur leapt from the ground and ran towards the nose cone. Click. The sound of hammers striking a firing pins filled the quiet; their weapons were empty; they were defenseless.

The beast heard the sound, locked in on its targets and dropped its snarling head low to the ground.

"Run!" Dahl screamed.

"Wait!" Lockspur screamed, grabbing her arm as the beast kicked at the dirt and snorted wildly. "Stand to the sides." He ordered, gesturing for her and Moss to go to opposite corners of the nosecone.

As they moved off, the beast watched them closely choosing its victim. But Lockspur screamed and waved his hands and yelled, "Here."

The beast reared up, slammed back down taking off at a full charge but Lockspur held his ground. The beast was focused on him not the two people to his sides or the jagged chunk of metal jutting up from the ground like a giant broadsword.

"Come on!" he hollered.

The beast ran head first into the jagged metal puncturing its head directly above its snout. It screamed in pain, fell to the ground and skid to a stop at Lockspur's feet with the steel still protruding from its head. The three of them stared at one another in utter disbelief.

"Please tell me, I'm not the only one who just shit his pants." Lockspur said.

Moss and Dahl stared at him for a moment and then laughed hysterically. The adrenalin coursing through their bodies washed away the fear of moments earlier.

Lockspur didn't say another word, he just started walking back towards the ship in silence. Moss looked to Dahl with a grin and yelled, "Bring back a power supply when you're done…" Moss stopped midsentence breaking into laughter as he slid into a seated position.

Lockspur didn't turn around, he just threw up his middle finger and kept walking away trying to adjust his pants.

…

"I want you to bypass the main power supply, a.s.a.p." Dahl said, helping Lockspur in through the empty windscreen. "We need to extract the data from the main hard drive."

"On it." Lockspur replied, taking the power supply over to the bridge console.

"Thank you." Dahl said.

"For what?" he asked, prying the lower panel off with a large knife.

"Saving our asses."

"Your welcome," he said, rolling out a black tool kit and removing a small red pair of wire cutters. Lockspur cut the sheathing on the main power lead and began pulling out individual wires to splice in the power supply. He turned to Dahl and said, "If I'm honest, it was more about self-preservation than heroism."

"Thanks anyhow," Moss added, pressing his ear against the main entry hatch. "I can't hear anything out there. But we should download the files and get out of here soon."

"Agreed," Lockspur said, cutting into the wiring harness.

Lockspur connected the power leads to the console, watched to ensure the lights came on and then gestured for Dahl to extract the files they were after.

"Got it," Dahl said, booting up the console's computer terminal. "Looks like the main drive is still in working order."

"Finally," Moss said, walking over to the windscreen and looking outside. "Some good news."

"Here it is," Dahl said, pulling up the ship's manifest and Captain's logs."

Something big slammed the hatch leaving an imprint of a head twice the size of the creature lying outside. It hit the door again and three bolts flew across the room like bullets.

"We have to go!" Moss shouted, pointing at the lowered ramp in the near distance. "That door isn't gonna hold for very long."

"I've got it!" Dahl screamed, pulling the flash drive from the console. "Lets go."

"My gear!" Lockspur said, rolling up his tools.

"Come on!" Moss shouted, jumping out the open windscreen hole and falling out of sight.

Dahl and Lockspur followed him out the front as the door exploded inward a split second later. They landed on a flat out run, crossing the open hundred fifty yards as fast as they could go watching the ramp slowly close in the distance.

"What the fuck!" Dahl screamed.

"I activated it remotely!" Moss called out.

"Why!"

"It won't help if it can follow us up the ramp when we get there!"

"If we get there!" Lockspur shouted, looking over his shoulder.

The beast smashed its way out through the front of the ship, landed on the ground fifty yards behind them gaining 5 steps to every one they took. Lockspur ran passed them screaming like a banshee and vaulted the closing ramp. The beast was 5 yards behind Dahl and Moss as they dove over the ramp's edge and slid down into the cargohold.

The ship lurched to the side and all three of its occupants flew through the air slamming into the portside hull. The beast was outside tossing the ship around like it was a toy. Dahl leapt to her feet, ran to the cockpit and threw herself into the pilot's seat.

"Get us the fuck outta here!" Moss yelled, as he and Lockspur fastened themselves in their seats.

Dahl slammed her fist on the console, jerked back sharply on the stick as the ship shot up pinning them in their seats. Lockspur turned green, Moss rolled his eyes at Dahl and she said, "Every time."

"Hey" Moss said. "At least he didn't shit his pants this time."

"If that's true," Dahl replied, looking over her shoulder at Lockspur. "Then he's the only one."

Lockspur smiled at Moss.

…...

Dahl landed the ship in line with the Hunter Gratzner's impact crater. The ship was at the lead edge of the debris field facing away from the area they just fled. The debris was spread over a distance more than three football fields wide and farther than the eye could see.

"Moss," Dahl said, lowering the ramp in preparation to go outside. "See if you can locate the tail section. Lockspur and I are going to take a look around."

"Be careful." Moss replied, staring at his instruments. "Apparently, UV rays don't do much to the really big ones"

"It pisses them off." Dahl replied, gesturing for Lockspur to follow her outside. She stopped before exiting the cockpit and added, "I need you to check the files we recovered earlier."

"Is something wrong?"

"I hope not." She said, waiting for Lockspur to walk out of earshot before continuing. "I didn't have the chance to verify the files before we had to leave. But I thought I saw a name I recognized."

"Was it her?"

"I hope not." Dahl said with a foreboding frown. "Just let me know what you find."

"I'm on it."

"Thanks."

Lockspur and Dahl stood at the bottom of the ramp surveying the debris field. The wreckage was scattered mostly to the right side of the deep trench.

"Does that strike you as odd?" Lockspur asked, gesturing at the wreckage. He stepped down holding his rifle at waist level. After what had happened earlier, he wasn't taking any chances.

"Not really." Dahl replied, following Lockspur towards the trench with her rifle at the ready. She stopped occasionally, looking from object to object or mound to mound making certain there were no surprises laying in wait.

"The aft section was spiraling when it struck the ground." Lockspur explained, stopping at the edge of the crater. "Look here," he said. "The soil on the left side of the trench is mounded over while most of the debris is on the right."

"Spiraling," Dahl thought aloud. "Are you saying the engine module was jettisoned prior to impact?"

"Appears that way," Lockspur answered. "It should have detonated on entry." He knelt down, scooped up a handful of dirt and watched it fall to the ground. "There's no ash, burnt soil or any other signs of detonation on impact."

"That's impossible." Dahl replied, kneeling down to inspect the soil for herself. "The Hunter Gratzner was running a pair of old series 1 neutron drives. The impact should have damaged the cooling system."

"Something isn't right here." Lockspur replied, walking around to the side of the trench. He removed a scanner from a pouch on his belt, switched it on and said with a grimace, "There's no radiation."

"How's that possible?"

Lockspur had a crazy thought, but he wouldn't say what he was thinking. Instead, he slowly spun in circle surveying the surroundings and said, "It's not."

"So, what happened?" Dahl asked, watching him spin.

"Can't say for sure," Lockspur said, lowering his weapon and walking away looking for the engine compartment. "We'll need to locate the engine module before I can say for certain."

"Is the compartment safe?"

"Probably," he replied, pulling out a pair of binoculars and scanning the wreckage in the distance.

"Probably!"

"Well," he replied, pointing at a large object on the horizon. "If what I think happened, really happened, we should be fine."

"Dahl," Moss called out over the comms. "I have the data you requested."

"Go ahead." she answered, clicking her fingers at Lockspur to get his attention. When he turned around, she signaled for him to hold up. He hopped up on a large chunk of debris and scanned the object through his binoculars. "Did you find out who Will was transporting?"

"Yes," Moss replied. The sound of an open mic filled Dahl's ears as Moss hesitated. "But that's not all I learned from the data you recovered."

"It was her?" Dahl said to herself.

"I saw her on the ship's video surveillance logs." Moss said, pausing before continuing. "At least, I think it was her."

"Are you certain or not?"

"95%." Moss answered, staring into a face on his display. "She has a shaved head and is wearing some kind of weird welding goggles. But I'm sure it's her."

"Welding goggles?"

"I have no idea why kids do the shit they do these days." Moss replied.

"Who was the bounty?"

"Hold on." Moss said, scrolling through the manifest. "Let me take a look at the passenger..."

Dahl waited impatiently listening to the sound of static filling her earpiece before finally blurting, "Well!"

"Riddick." Moss said, staring at the name on the screen. "The dumbass was transporting Riddick."

"I heard Will wouldn't leave Riddick alone." Lockspur said, turning to Dahl. "Stupid fucker hounded him from one side of the Universe to the other."

"We came here to find out what brought the ship down."

"No," Lockspur interrupted. "We came all the way out here to see if the lady in black was right."

"Johns said, if the lady says Kera's alive, then she's still alive." Moss said. "And that's the only reason Johns dumped 50,000 credits in fuel and had spend a month in cryostasis to get all the way out here."

"Do you think Will made it out?" Lockspur asked, staring through binoculars.

Dahl shook her head and answered, "Doubtful."

"Why?"

"Because if the raptors didn't him, Riddick did."

Lockspur stood on the wreckage peering down at Dahl and said, "You know the company's report was falsified. Three people made it off this rock, not two."

"Exactly," Dahl replied. "If Will had made it out alive, he wouldn't have concealed his survival."

"Riddick made it out." Moss said.

"But why save two witnesses, who could report he was still alive?" Lockspur asked.

"No idea." She answered. "Maybe he's not a bad guy."

"Not a bad guy," Lockspur said with a sarcastic laugh. "There are three constants in this Universe. You stay away from the Necros, don't cross the Lady in Black, and don't mess with Riddick."

"And not necessarily in that order." Moss added.

"Paranoia and Superstition." Dahl replied, gesturing for Lockspur to get down.

"Or just good old fashioned common sense." Moss added.

Dahl rolled her eyes. "Lockspur, have you got a fix on the aft compartment?"

"I do," he replied, jumping down. "Let's go." He walked off towards the large chunk of wreckage on the horizon readying his rifle for anything that may jump from behind the minefield of debris littering their path. "I didn't see any movement between here and there. I'm taking that as a positive sign."

"You do that." Dahl said, quickly catching up to him. Over the next 25 minutes, the two of them negotiated the debris field without incident. Although, Lockspur nearly jumped out of skin numerous times.

When they reached their destination, they found the engine compartment resting on its side in the deepest part of the trench. Dahl peered over the edge of the trench scanning the area for a way to get back out. But there was none. Once inside they would have to exit all the way at the end.

Lockspur pointed at the open cargo hatch on the upper rear corner and said, "If we want to get inside, we'll have to figure out a way to get up there."

"I suppose you can't take readings from here?"

Lockspur removed the scanner from a pouch on his side and held it out as if pointing a sidearm. "I can't get an accurate reading of what's inside. But I can tell you what isn't." He showed Dahl the readout on his scanner and added, "Just like I thought, there's no radiation."

"Good," she replied, preparing to jump down.

He reached out and grabbed her arm before she could and said, "Look at the damage. The compartment looks like its been through a meat grinder. There's only one reason there's no radiation and that's because the engines are gone."

"Gone!"

"Yes, gone." Lockspur repeated, letting go of her arm. "The company discontinued production of the old series 1s, after half a dozen ships exploded on reentry. That's why the Hunter Gratzner and ships like her were relegated to long range haulers."

"How do you know the engines are gone?"

"The only way that ship made it down in one piece is because its engines aren't in there."

"You call this one piece?" Dahl replied, gesturing around at the damage.

"When the old series one's detonated, they went up with a blast force equivalent to a Hiroshima bomb. The only fragments surviving the blast typically burned up in the atmosphere."

"Maybe they jettisoned the engines before reentry."

"Not possible," Lockspur replied, gesturing at the seamless compartment. "The old series one's were so big, engineers crafted the hulls around the engines."

"How could the engines just disappear?" Dahl asked, mesmerized by the sheer size of the aft compartment.

"That's my point." Lockspur replied, looking around as if something was watching them. "They can't. Whoever or whatever had the power to remove those engines isn't natural."

"Is that what downed it?"

"I doubt it." Lockspur said, pointing to the back of the compartment. "Look at the aft hull, there are hundreds of meteorite strikes. Those holes would have led to a catastrophic decompression of the aft compartment triggering a ship wide alert."

"The computer would have revived the flight crew before the ship went down."

"It would." Lockspur agreed. "But not until after the strike occurred."

"What's going on here?" Moss asked, watching them through a long range camera.

"There are dark forces at work here." Lockspur answered. "But that's not the only thing going on."

"You're letting your superstitious nature run away again."

"Am I?" Lockspur replied, holding out his scanner for her to look at. "That damage isn't consistent with what you would normally find in a meteor shower."

"But the report clearly states…"

"The report was made in err." Lockspur interrupted. "While the strikes are consistent with a meteor shower, the size and shape of each impact is far to uniform."

"Meteorite strikes aren't uniform."

"Here." He continued, jamming the scanner into her hands. "Look for yourself. The residue around the penetrations clearly show each impact was made by an object comprised of 98.763% A286 stainless steel."

"Someone shot the Hunter Gratzner down." Moss said, zooming in on the aft section.

"Looks like it." Lockspur answered, gesturing for Dahl to follow him back towards the ship.

"Someone went to a lot of trouble to kill these people and make it look like an accident." Moss said, powering up the ship when he saw Lockspur turn around.

"No." Lockspur said, quickening his pace. "Whoever did this, shot the Hunter Gratzner down, removed the engines during its decent to ensure it would reach the surface safely and then, set back and watched the show unfold."

"For what reason?"

"How the fuck do I know." Lockspur said, breaking into a flat-out run for the ship.

"Where are you going?" Dahl asked, barely managing to keep up.

"As far from here as I can get." Lockspur blurted.

"Why?"

"Because I'm pretty sure someone is watching us."

"That's crazy." Dahl replied, barely able to speak from lack of oxygen.

Moss lowered the ramp, focused the long range scanners on the top of the wreckage in the distance and stared wide-eyed as a dark figure rose from the Hunter Gratzner's open cargo hold. "Don't stop!" Moss shouted. "There's someone on the wreckage."

The pair wheezed their way up the ramp stopping momentarily in the safety of the cargohold. Dahl slammed the ramp control and followed Lockspur into the cockpit as it closed behind them.

"Get us out of here."

Moss yanked back on the control, the ship rose into the sky, spun around and rocketed towards the figure on the wreckage. "Lets get a closer look." Moss said, focusing the forward camera array on the figure.

"What!" Lockspur shouted. "You're taking us back there!"

As the ship approached the area, a horde of beasts streamed out of the aft hatch surrounding the downed craft until the vessel and the figure were completely obscured beneath writhing snapping teeth and limbs.

"Whatever that thing is, it isn't afraid of the raptors." Dahl said, staring down at the beasts lunging up at the ship.

"Its controlling them." Lockspur said.

As Moss spun the ship around preparing to enter orbit, Dahl switched to the aft camera array and the trio watched as the creatures raced back through the open hatch leaving behind the figure still standing on the ship watching them.

"Look!" Lockspur shouted. "Can anyone make out who that is?"

Dahl shot Moss an ominous expression out of the corner of her eye that asked, "Have you ever seen anything like that before?"

"I have." Lockspur replied.


	21. Chapter 21 The Answers I Never Expected

**Chapter 20**

 **The Answers I Never Expected**

"There you have it, just the way my team relayed the story to me." Johns said, leaning back in his seat. "Any thoughts?"

Riddick sat across the table studying Johns expression as a smile crossed his face. "Did you have a good time on Sol Lucia?"

"Out of everything you everything I told you the team encountered on M6-117, that's what stands out in your mind?" Johns replied, leaning forward with a frown. "My trip."

"It is," Riddick replied, his tone growing darker. "I've seen the way you keep the Dahl close. Hell, you treat her better than you did your own son."

"Dahl is family, and how I treat her is none of your damn business."

"Everything happening is my business." Riddick countered, staring him down. "But I get the impression, you already know that."

"I do. But…"

"But nothing," Riddick interrupted. "You read the company report before you sent your team there, and still, even knowing what was waiting for them, you sent them anyhow. You sent them into a shit storm that could have killed them all and you were nowhere to be seen."

"I prepared my team with the best intel I could find." Johns replied, gesturing over his shoulder at the closed door. "I have to ask myself, what's with your sudden concern? You didn't give a shit what happened to the team down there."

"Not them," Riddick replied. "Her."

"You should know we can't always do what we want. Not even for those who mean the most."

"I do."

"Then it's simple, I needed actionable intel and I had a way to put boots on the ground to get it. It wasn't a perfect plan and it was most definitely dangerous. But I knew I could trust my team to get it done."

"Really," Riddick said, getting up to stretch his legs. "You trust them to keep her safe?"

"You've been a loner for so long you can't even remember what it feels like to trust anymore, can you?"

"People let you down."

"They do," Johns admitted, gesturing between them. "We all do."

"Who's pulling your strings, Johns." Riddick asked, sitting back down. "Who told you to send them? What were they really looking for?"

"We all answer to a higher power, Riddick." Johns replied, scrolling through the images taken on M6-117. He hesitated on of the figure standing on the Hunter Gratzner Engine compartment. "Even if we don't want to admit it." He pulled up Lockspur's metallurgy scan of the Hunter Gratzner's aft tail section and added, "If you think I sent my team there to learn what happened to Will, you're wrong."

"Give me some credit, Johns." Riddick replied, rudely closing the lid on the data pad. "I know your team wasn't just searching for what brought that ship down. Why don't you tell me what it was?"

"I suppose you have no idea who shot the ship down?" Johns replied, ignoring the question.

"I had no idea we'd been shot down. Let alone, it could've been because of me."

"I can't say for sure, if it was because of you. But I double checked the report." Johns said, the tension in his voice bubbling to the surface. "Other than Sharon Montgomery and you, everybody else onboard was a nobody. And she was traveling under the alias, Shazza. No one would have known she was Robert Montgomery's daughter."

"Your point."

"Someone went to a great deal of effort to down that ship and make it look like an accident."

"Agreed." Riddick said, his foreboding tone driving the conversation.

"So, why let the only person of any real value die?" Johns asked, pulling up Lockspur's analysis of what downed the Hunter Gratzner. "Shazza Montgomery would have brought tens of millions in ransom and then there was you. The most wanted man in the Universe. Why let her die and you live?"

"Maybe it's my devil may care attitude or my rugged good looks."

"Or your warm and fuzzy sarcasm." John replied, frowning at him. "

"That too." Riddick said, with a smirk.

"Either way," Johns said, waving him off. "You were the only other high value target aboard the Hunter Gratzner."

"That was years ago, long before I was a high value anything." Riddick said, sitting back in his seat, centering himself on Johns. "Although, in hindsight, if I'd known who Shazza was, I would have done more than stare at her ass."

"Cute."

"She was," Riddick replied with a coy grin. "in a, my leather pants are so tight I'll never get them off again, kind of way. But who noticed."

"Apparently someone did."

"As much as I'd love to sit around reminiscing about Sharon Montgomery, I still want an answer to what your team was looking for?"

"You mean who," Johns said, meeting Riddick's stare head on. "Who were they looking for?"

"Ok, I'll bite," Riddick replied, sitting back in the seat. "Who were they looking for?"

"They were looking for my…" Johns paused, pressing a few buttons on the data pad and swiping a finger across the screen. "stepdaughter."

"Carolyn Fry was your stepdaughter?"

"You know who they were looking for, Riddick. And you know it wasn't Carolyn Fry."

"Are you saying they went there looking for…" a sudden lump in Riddick's throat prevented him from finishing the sentence.

"Kera," Johns said, finishing the sentence for him. "Yes. I did warn you, our stories are linked in ways you wouldn't believe."

"She's your family?"

"Kera is a special young woman, Riddick. She has many families. Someday you'll learn for yourself just how special she is."

"I already did." Riddick replied, shifting on the edge of his seat. "But she's gone."

"About that," Johns said, showing no reaction to the news of his stepdaughters demise. "I have it on good authority, Zhylaw didn't kill Kera."

"Then your good authority isn't worth shit." Riddick blurted, with a terrible frown. "Because she died in my arms."

"That's the thing" Johns countered. "I don't think she did. I was told you were lead to believe she had died."

"You were told wrong!"

"Well then," Johns said, shrugging his shoulders. "It would appear we've reached an impasse. Because there's nothing I can say to make you believe Kera is still alive, and there is nothing you can say that will ever make me believe she is not."

"I was there!"

"I know." Johns said, with an air of empathy in his tone. "I can hear the guilt in your voice and I am truly sorry you had to live with that hanging over your head. But it's not true."

"Why torture yourself with a delusion that she's still alive?"

"Hope is not torture. It the one thing that gives us strength and the one thing that was taken from you long ago."

"And when your precious hope is gone."

"Hope is never gone."

Riddick laughed and said, "Some of us have to live in the real world, Johns."

Johns studied him for a quick moment and countered, "You said it yourself. You live in a world where something has been manipulating you since the day of your birth."

"The day of my birth." Riddick thought out loud.

"Seems like," Johns replied. "If you want to control someone's destiny you'd need to start at the beginning."

"Aereon said…"

"I know what Aereon said." Johns cut in. "What I don't know is if she's involved in what's happening to you."

"You don't trust her?" Riddick asked.

"No." Johns admitted. "I do not. But then again, I don't believe you do either."

"Why do say that?"

"Because I've gone to a great deal of trouble to research your history, and nowhere have I found any evidence to support her claims."

"About that, Johns." Riddick said, leaning forward in his seat. "Why go to so much trouble to find out who I am? You haven't been shooting ships down have you?"

Johns studied him for a long while before finally answering, "The resources needed to pull something like that off are beyond a single individual's reach."

"Just sayin'," Riddick countered, sitting back again. "You seem to be overly preoccupied with me, wouldn't you say?"

"I'm just a guy who saw something no one else did." Johns replied. "Speaking of noticing things. Have you noticed how some people in your life keep coming back around?"

"What people?"

"The dead one's."

"That just started."

"You mean you just started noticing."

"No." Riddick replied, the heat in his voice pierced the air like a knife. "I mean it just started."

"When did it start? Exactly."

"I told you already. It starts in the future."

"No." Johns said, showing him a readout on Martin's datapad. "I think it started down there."

"That shouldn't be there." Riddick said, grabbing the pad and pulling it closer. He stared into the screen, light reflecting off his pupils. "These are the data files Martin down loaded off the company's mainframe."

"They are."

"But how?" Riddick demanded. "These tests won't even be performed for another 18 months."

"There's a lot going on that defies explanation."

"This is nuts."

Johns laughed at Riddick and said, "Says the man who claims to have been pulled back in time 2 years." Johns went to the monitor on the wall, turned it on and continued, "What about Ginger?" He pulled up a picture of Sharon Montgomery.

"What about her?"

To Riddick's dismay, Johns pulled up a second image of Ginger in the back alley beside the club neutrino. The photo had been taken from the roof directly above were Riddick would stand 2 years in the future. It clearly showed him and Martin standing in the shadows behind the dumpster.

"I knew somebody was up there."

"I was given this photograph years ago, when I went to Sol Lucia."

"That's not possible."

"None the less, here it is." Johns countered. "When I was given this photo, I had no idea when or where it was taken."

"It didn't make sense."

"I couldn't wrap my mind around where and when you and Sharon Montgomery could have been together. Let alone, why she was wearing a get up like that."

"It's because it hadn't happened yet."

"It's because this isn't Sharon Montgomery." Martin said, gesturing to Ginger. "For years I racked my brain trying to figure it out. That is, until 3 days ago, when Dahl pulled you up and you started telling your story."

"You believe me."

Johns nodded and said, "Now I understand, what is happening."

"It's real. I really was pulled back in time." Riddick said to himself.

"Yes, you were." Johns admitted, zooming in on the image. "You said it yourself, Ginger was the spitting image of not one, but two women you knew were dead."

"How is this possible?"

"I don't know." Johns replied. "But it's not just happening to you. Something happened to me and the others when Dahl pulled you into the ship."

"What?"

"Hard to explain." Johns said, scrolling through the files on the data pad. "It's like a million tiny little changes happened to me all at once creating an altered present. It's like 2 lives stacked on one another."

"How can you tell?"

"When I came here looking for you, I was an out of control drunk, hell bent on revenge. I remember wanting you dead and I would have happily let Santana cut your head off."

"I remember that guy."

"Me too." Johns admitted. "And that's the problem. I'm not that guy."

That doesn't make any sense." Riddick said, his demeanor changing for the worse. "Was everything you told me all a lie?"

"No." Johns said, trying to get Riddick to quiet down. "That's why I sent Dahl out of the room. I think I'm the only one who remembers the other past."

"You're still not making sense."

"I know." Johns admitted. "I never saw that photograph or sent my team to M6-117, before we came here. I didn't go to deep storage or go looking for answers after that. But as soon as you came aboard, those memories came out of nowhere. Add to that, this datapad showed up in my room without explanation."

"But what about the first time I came on board, why didn't this happen then?" Riddick asked in a whisper.

"I don't know." Johns said. "Maybe something happened in your future that reset everything in this past."

"If that's true, why are you the only one that realizes things changed?"

"I don't know," Johns said with a foreboding expression. "But with every passing minute, the alternate past I do remember, is slipping away, and this new reality is becoming all I know."

"That sounds insane."

He turned around with a smile and added, "Everything about this is insane. But that doesn't mean it's not happening."

"And what happens when you forget?"

"I've spent the last 3 days creating detailed vid files explaining everything that's happened. I figured if the story comes from me, then maybe I'd believe it."

"Or not." Riddick replied.

"If we're right, and there is something out there that can move through time and space, then the Necromonger invasions are the least of our worries."

"That's why I need to leave for a while." Riddick stressed. "All this shit started when the Necros showed up."

"I agree," Johns said, walking over to the wall panel beside the door. "But I don't want you going alone this time."

"I work best on my own."

"I couldn't agree more." Johns replied, opening the comms. "Dahl, you can come back inside now." Johns walked back to the table and waited for her to come in.

"I'm going alone."

"No. you're not." Johns replied. "This isn't just about you anymore. This thing – whatever it is – is fucking with us all. I need someone to have your back if this shit goes south."

"If you haven't noticed, the people who hang with me usually end up dead."

"Then I strongly suggest you do better. Because I'm sending Dahl with you to get killed."

Dahl entered the compartment wearing a mask of annoyance. "Did the big strong men finally deem the little girl worthy of being part of their conversation?"

Johns looked to Riddick and said, "On second thought, maybe I was a bit hasty."

"It's a work in progress." Riddick replied, standing up to leave. "But I don't care what you say, she's not coming."

"Hey," Dahl interrupted. "Screw you cue ball, I can take care of myself. And what makes you think I'd go anywhere with you?"

"It's not that I don't want you there. But everyone I care about ends up dead."

"Wow," Dahl said. "Do you get a lot of girls like that?"

"Tell her she can't come."

"What!" Dahl said, staring between them. "You're best buds, now?"

Johns and Riddick looked at each other and both scoffed and said, "No."

"You could've fooled me." She snapped, kicking a chair again.

This time Luna was prepared, he vaulted the chair with little effort and swung it around and set in it.

"Should I start a hot shower for the two of you?" Dahl raged.

"Are you finished?" Johns said, frowning at her as if she were a child.

"Don't patronize me." Dahl replied. "I'm as capable as anyone on this team."

Riddick grabbed her by the arm, swung her around and slammed her against the wall. "You're trying to hurt the only person I have left in this Universe."

"I'm not trying to hurt anyone, you goddamn lunatic." Dahl said, shoving him off her. "What are you talking about?"

"He's talking about you." Johns explained.

"Me!"

"Yes. He was telling the truth when he said he's from the future."

"You too!"

"No." Johns said. "I'm from this time and I know whatever happened to me when Riddick came aboard, happen to you, as well. What I don't know is how his arrival affected you."

"It didn't," she replied, staring at her feet.

"Bullshit." Johns said, looking at Riddick with an ominous scowl.

"All right!" Dahl snapped. "But this is gonna sound crazy. I can remember when you were a mean drunk and a son of a bitch."

"Anything else?" Riddick asked.

"I get bits and pieces of a future where we're together. But that's not possible. No one can see the future."

"Is it fading?" Johns asked.

"No." Dahl replied, looking to Riddick. "if anything, the visions are becoming clearer."

Johns turned to Luna and asked, "What about you?"

"Nothing memories." Luna replied, holding up his bible. "Just the ones I already had."

Johns turned to Riddick and said, "Whatever's going on, it's different for each of us." Johns gestured to everyone in the room adding, "Riddick remembers two different realities, Dahl remembers bits and pieces of an alternate future, my memories are fading and Luna didn't get anything."

"That's not quite accurate." Luna said, gesturing at Riddick. "When Dahl pulled Riddick up, I was struck by an overwhelming sense we'd all done this before. The sensation lasted for hours."

"Déjà vu´." Dahl thought out loud.

"Kind of," Luna replied. "But way more intense. I didnt2 think it would ever go away."

"Are we really saying this is happening?" Dahl asked, looking around the room.

"We are." Johns replied, pulling up a schematic of the Pegren System. "Look here," he instructed, highlighting a single planet. "This is Pegreno 3, its in the heart of the forbidden planets region. I've secured you a safe house where you can blend in."

Riddick pointed at his eyes and said, "I don't exactly blend in."

Johns handed him a small black case and Riddick open it and saw a pair of contacts lenses. "Those should help." Johns replied, taking the case back. "You can wear these in public. That should keep suspicions at a minimum."

"And her," Riddick said, gesturing at Dahl.

Johns turned to Dahl and said, "I set your covers personally." Johns chuckled to himself. "You're newly weds, married less than a year, Dahl is a security expert working for a covert Company software firm and you're…" He laughed to himself and added, "A phys-ed teacher. Your specialty is girls softball. Apparently, you love kids." Johns laughed again and added, "Who knew?"

"Funny," Riddick replied with a frown. "Very funny."

Johns looked up with an empathetic grimace. "I know, it's not a frozen wasteland teaming with well armed mercs out for a fight. But I'm sure you'll find something to keep yourself amused."

"I'd rather face a legion of mercs rather than stand in a gym full of girls."

Dahl looked at Riddick and asked, "Does it seem like he's enjoying this a little to much?"

"Definitely."

"One more thing." John added, gesturing towards Luna.

"What now?"

"He's going along as a second set of eyes."

"Me!"

"Yes." Johns said, turning to Luna. "I secured you a position with the local clergy."

"When did you have time to set this all up?"

"Apparently, I did it before we arrived." Johns said, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess it's one of the perks of living two separate lives simultaneously."

"In what Universe did you think I would agree to any of that plan?"

"None," Johns replied. "That's why no one will come looking for a P.E. teacher out in the forbidden planets region."

"Makes sense." Dahl said, teetering her head and offering a halfhearted grin.

Johns looked at Luna and said, "Prepare Santana's ship for immediate departure. Take whatever supplies you need."

"Affirmative," Luna replied with a nod.

After Luna left the compartment, Johns said, "A warning before you go."

"There's more." Dahl replied, rolling her eyes at him.

"There is," Johns warned. "If you want a future together, then I strongly suggest you leave the past where it belongs."

"What aren't you telling me?" Riddick asked.

"All the things I believe you already suspect. But don't want to hear spoken aloud."

"Is she…"

"Choose your next words carefully," Johns warned, cutting him off before Riddick could continue.

Luna called over the comms, "Dahl can you come help me for a minute?"

She didn't want to go but Johns nodded at the hatch signaling for her to go help Luna. After Dahl had exited the compartment, Johns continued, "You have a choice. The same choice you had when you left Martin in that warehouse."

"What choice is that?"

"Where you choose to go from here." Johns said. "Do you move ahead with Dahl or do you try to change the mistakes of a past long beyond your reach.""

Riddick didn't reply, he just looked from the hatch Dahl had exited through to the window in the hull.

"The mistakes of the past are more often than not, beyond our ability to make repairs." Johns said getting up and walking to the hatch.

"That doesn't excuse them."

"No it doesn't." Johns replied, openings the hatch. He peered over his shoulder and added, "If it's forgiveness you're looking for, then you should begin by forgiving yourself."

"I've tried," Riddick replied, with a shrug of his wide shoulders. "It didn't take."

"There in lies the problem with being raised by nuns."

"Martin told her I was dead."

"He did."

"You knew that?"

"I did."

"Is she all right?"

"She survived the night and moved on with her life." Johns answered, looking Riddick in the eyes.

"Did she forget…" Riddick said, pausing mid-sentence unable to finish.

"Did you?"

"So, now you know your choices." Johns said, leaving Riddick to his thoughts.

Riddick sat alone weighing his options. Leave with the woman who knew the man he had become or return to the woman who remembered a man who didn't exist anymore.


End file.
